


Neighbours

by mozbee



Series: After the Storm [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: M/M, No Rape/Non-con, Percival will save Newt if it's the last thing he does, TW: Domestic Abuse, strongly hinted at with at least one somewhat graphic scene, the aftermath of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-04-27 03:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14417154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozbee/pseuds/mozbee
Summary: They disappeared into their apartment, Newt trying to force down his limp, Gellert walking slow to compensate. Percival wondered if the limp was an effect of the accident he had had last year that Gellert had alluded to, but it wasn’t exactly something that he could bring up in casual conversation.But, a voice nagged at him as he went back to his own apartment, Newt hadn’t been limping at all the day before. Percival shut his door and went back to sit at the island with a cup of coffee, and frowned thoughtfully at nothing.--Percival Graves is a private investigator, and he is good at his job, thank you very much. He's always been adamant on keeping work separate from home, but when Gellert Grindelwald and his boyfriend Newt Scamander move in next door, he finds his sleuthing skills being put to use in the worst way.---Please read the tags.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please make sure you have read the tags before starting this. It is a story of domestic abuse, and what it encompasses. While there is only one overtly graphic scene, the entirety of this story may be upsetting to anyone who has experienced this personally. I have done my best to do it justice, but if anyone feels there is anything outright disrespectful or offensive, let me know so I can look at changing that.

Percival Graves rode the elevator up from the underground parking lot of his apartment building, absentmindedly jingling his keys in his pocket. The elevator slowed to a stop at the lobby and the doors slid open. He blinked at a slender man who stood in front of him, with unruly hair falling in front of his eyes as he bent and lifted two cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other. Percival reached out to take the top box as it threatened to slide.

“Thank you,” the stranger told him with a quick grin. “I was a bit off balance there.”

“Not exactly a box of feathers, is it?” Percival replied. He noted the lilting British accent as he set the box down at their feet, the other man copying his action. “Are you just moving in?”

“Yes. Just got here this morning,” he answered. “Oh. I’m Newt.”

“Percival”. They shook hands, a quick squeeze and that was it. Newt pressed the eighth floor button and glanced at Percival inquiringly. “That’s my floor,” Percival told him with a grin. “You’re moving into 810 then?”

Newt nodded and shoved his hands in the pockets of the long jacket he was wearing. “Are you close?” he asked after a moment’s hesitation.

“Right next door,” Percival nodded. The elevator bumped to a gentle stop, and he bent down to pick up the heavier of the two boxes. “Lead the way,” he told Newt who was hovering uncertainly in the door. They passed the garbage chute in the wall, apartment 812, 811 (Percival’s) and stopped in front of the last door on the right.

“Er, you can just set your box down,” Newt told him quietly, shifting awkwardly in front of his door.

“Nonsense.” Percival nodded at the door. “I’ll take it in for you.” Just at that moment the door swung open, and there was a man slightly shorter than Newt, thicker built, with a shock of peroxide hair standing in the entranceway. His eyes barely skipped over Percival before settling on Newt.

“Newt! Love, why do you insist on taking too much?” he admonished, reaching to take the box Newt held. “You should have waited for me to come down.” Newt ducked his head in acquiescence, shrugging one shoulder. The man turned a smile on to Percival. “Hello. Thank you for helping Newt. I’m Gellert.”

His voice was accented as well, some kind of eastern European if Percival had to guess. “Percival Graves,” he nodded, adjusting his grip on the box. Gellert turned back into the apartment, nudging the door further open.

“Come in, don’t languish in the hall so burdened,” he said over his shoulder. Newt motioned for Percival to enter ahead of him, and shut the door behind him. Gellert came over to relieve Percival of his box. Newt hung back next to Percival until a look from Gellert had him hurrying over to his side in the kitchen.

“These are all your mugs, you’ll have to figure where to put them,” he told Newt with a fond smile. He wrapped an arm around Newt’s waist and pressed a firm kiss to the side of his head. Newt blushed but waited until Gellert released him to turn to the box that had been opened to reveal brown paper wrapped items.

“Would you care for a drink, Percival?” Gellert was smiling at him again, a wide, flat smile that didn’t do much more than stretch his lips. Percival saw Newt still from unwrapping the mugs from the box. “We can get to know each other.”

“Oh, thank you, but you’d probably like to get to unpacking, I don’t want to take up your time,” Percival said. Gellert waved a hand dismissively.

“I insist. We have the whole weekend ahead of us for that anyway.” So it was that within five minutes Percival found himself sitting on a plush leather armchair with a can of dark beer, imported, Gellert told him proudly, from a mountain German town renowned for the ale. Newt came into the living room with them, handing Gellert an open beer and sitting next to him.

After some idle chatter about Percival living next door and the capricious groundskeeper of the building, Gellert set his beer on the coffee table, Newt hurriedly setting a coaster underneath it, and leaned back against the couch.

“Tell me, Percival, what do you do for work?” Percival swallowed a mouthful of the rich beer before answering.

“I work for a corporate securities firm. Very boring,” he added to Gellert’s raised eyebrow. Gellert flashed him another quick smile.

“Indeed.”

“What about you?”

“Freelance consultant,” Gellert answered vaguely. Percival didn’t push it, instead looking to Newt.

“What about you, Newt?”

“He doesn’t work,” Gellert answered immediately. He slung an arm around Newt’s shoulders, pulling the lithe man close to his side. “There was an accident, last year, and he hasn’t been able to work since.” He gave Newt a sympathetic look and rubbed his shoulder.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Percival said, feeling a bit awkward. Newt smiled at him, a tremulous thing, but said nothing. Percival downed the remainder of his beer and stood up. “Thanks for the hospitality. The beer was great, but I best be getting home.”

The other two stood as one, and Gellert reached for the empty beer can and passed it to Newt who disappeared with it into the kitchen. “Don’t be a stranger,” Gellert told him as he followed him to the door.

“If you need help settling in with anything here, I’m right next door,” Percival said, and the two of them shook hands. Newt stood back in the doorway to the kitchen, and he gave a little wave when Percival nodded to him. “It was nice to meet you both.”

The door closed behind him with a firm snap, and Percival walked the short distance to his own door. He could hear music playing from their apartment, muffled through the walls, and shook his head as he let himself into his place. Newt and Gellert…they were kind of an odd couple. Soon they were both out of his mind as he fell into his routine of unwinding after work, his first step to grab a beer from his fridge and take a long drink to clear out the unpleasant aftertaste of the German beer that sat heavily on his tongue and in the back of his throat.

Imported did _not_ mean better.

.

.

.

Tina Goldstein stopped by the corner of his desk and held out a paper bag. “Oatmeal cookie?” she offered. Percival took one gratefully and set it on top of his coffee cup.

“Thanks,” he said, glancing up from the file in front of him. Then he did a double take. “Holy shit, Tina, you look like crap.”

She huffed and snatched the proffered bag away. “Duly noted,” she sighed as she dropped into her chair behind her desk that sat across from Percival’s. “I was staking out Mr. Thorne’s home all night, waiting for the lover that never showed.” She pulled out a cookie for herself and bit into it with relish. “Either he’s caught on to Mrs. Thorne’s suspicions and called it off, or she’s not coming by his house anymore. I sent Abernathy to watch him this morning and see where he goes.” Tina spoke through a mouthful of cookie, absently dusting crumbs from the front of her white button down shirt. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll go back to that hotel that charged his credit card last week, and then I’ll have something concrete to send his wife.”

“When did you take Thorne on?” Percival asked, making a point to swallow the chunk of cookie he had bitten off before speaking.

“Um, the third, I think?” Tina leaned back in her chair to peer at the calendar that hung on the wall behind her. “Yep, the third.”

“Barely a week, and you seem to have made decent progress so far,” Percival pointed out. Tina rolled her eyes.

“That’s only because Mr. Thorne doesn’t understand his shared account activity is available to his wife and she was able to give me so much to start with.” Tina shrugged and finished her cookie in another bite. “He’s either caught on or there’s something else going on. I’ll figure it out.”

Percival wasn’t worried one way or the other; Tina was dedicated to her work, taking pride in catching husbands or wives in illicit affairs, or people cheating for their disability payments, but Percival knew she lived for the heavier cases, where they had to track down an errant teenager, when there was pressure to get the job done quickly but discreetly. Percival preferred the high adrenaline cases as well, but in a medium sized city like theirs, there weren’t many high profile cases for a private investigator’s firm.

Percival turned his attention back to his file, closing a case that dealt with insurance fraud. It had been painfully boring and he was glad to put it to bed. He filled in the form on his laptop, smirking at Tina’s tired groan as she opened her own laptop to get to work.

His new neighbours were floating around in his head, both of their accented voices taking turns to rap against his skull. He didn’t understand why his thoughts kept drifting to them; maybe it was the expressive eyes Newt had fixed on him in the elevator, or the unconventional colour of Gellert’s hair. He wished he had learned their last names so he could do some digging. He didn’t feel the least bit of guilt in lying to Gellert about his line of work. It was his standard answer when someone asked about his job. Corporate security was wide ranging enough and sounded bureaucratic enough that he was rarely asked follow up questions. No one knew he was actually a private dick, besides his co-workers.

He stepped out an hour before lunch to walk to the ritzy North End bistro and snap some photos of the janitor who was suspected of stealing truffles and selling them on the black market. People turned to crime in the oddest way sometimes.

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.

Percival sat at the island in his kitchen eating dinner when the music from next door started up. It was louder than it had been the night before, coming through his living room wall. He knew that Newt and Gellert’s apartment had a bedroom sharing the wall with his own living room, having been in 810 before to help the previous tenant put up shelves, a kindly old man who had gone to live in a retirement home only a few weeks ago.

Percival didn’t mind the music one way or another, so long as it wasn’t rattling the pictures on his walls, but he found himself curious about the source of the heavy thud that sounded in a lull of music. In the silence between one song and the next he caught a raised voice but he had no way to tell who was speaking, although he had a feeling that Newt would be the last person to raise his voice.

He dismissed it easily, turning his attention back to the newspaper, but his curiosity returned when he made a trip to the garbage chute and Newt came out of his apartment, carrying a small plastic bag no doubt intended for the chute. He quickly tried to adjust his gait but Percival had already seen the limp that plagued him. He waited for Newt to reach him, smiling broadly at the other man who steadfastly kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Good evening, Newt; how are you?” Percival asked, holding the door out of the way so Newt could drop his refuse. He managed a small smile at Percival, one that wavered on his lips as if afraid to take on a decisive form.

“All right, and you?”

“Fine. Are you all unpacked? Getting settled and such?” Newt nodded, long fingers fidgeting with his shirt buttons, with his errant wisps of hair that drifted across his forehead. He seemed about to speak when they both heard a door open. Over Newt’s shoulder Percival saw Gellert step out of their apartment and look at them.

“Percival,” Gellert said, pulling his lips flat in his parody of a smile as he reached them. “I was wondering where you got to,” he added to Newt, nudging him gently with his elbow.  

“Sorry,” Newt said softly. Gellert chuckled and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Don’t be silly, Newton, you don’t have to apologize. Would you like to come in for a beer, Percival?” Percival could already smell the heavy scent of the imported beer on Gellert’s breath.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got some work to catch up on,” Percival replied.

Gellert nodded and was already turning away, tugging on Newt and vaguely saying, “some other time, then.”

They disappeared into their apartment, Newt trying to force down his limp, Gellert walking slow to compensate. Percival wondered if the limp was an effect of the accident he had had last year that Gellert had alluded to, but it wasn’t exactly something that he could bring up in casual conversation.

But, a voice nagged at him as he went back to his own apartment, Newt hadn’t been limping at all the day before. Percival shut his door and went back to sit at the island with a cup of coffee, and frowned thoughtfully at nothing.

.

.

.

What Percival liked most about fall was the way the weather changed. One day could be a blustery reminder that winter was on its way, fallen leaves scraping across the pavement as they were tossed about in the cold wind, and the next could feel like they were on the cusp of spring, the sun shining bright all day, a light breeze barely ruffling the hair of the folks out for a walk to take advantage of a late fall day that was pleasant enough to walk through.

Percival had waffled between walking or driving to the supermarket, and he had finally decided on driving in case he bought more groceries than he was thinking of. He ignored the carousel of shopping carts and the stacked baskets that stood at the entrance to the store and made a beeline to the meat. He stood in front of the cooler, scanning the packages for the cut he desired, and after a moment became aware of the person standing next to him searching the cooler almost frantically.

“Oh. Hello Newt,” Percival said, surprised when he realized it was his neighbour next to him. Newt jerked to an upright position from where he had been hunched over in front of the bottom row of meat, eyes wide when they landed on Percival.

“Percival! Hello,” Newt smiled at him. He was holding a basket stuffed with produce and small glass jars. “Fancy meeting you here at this time of day.”

Percival shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “I finished work early and figured I may as well get my weekend shopping out of the way with.”

“Yes, I know what you mean,” Newt said. “I tried coming here last Saturday morning and the place was absolutely jammed. I suppose Saturday morning is when the whole town decides to get their groceries.” Despite the warmth of the day, Newt was dressed in a long jacket and scarf, his hands and face the only skin left bare.

“Tuesday afternoon is definitely the time to be here,” Percival agreed. He nodded toward the meat cooler. “Are you having trouble finding something in particular?”

“Oh,” Newt said, frowning as he turned his attention back to the selection. “Yes, I can’t seem to find the organic ground turkey he needs…” Newt trailed off and squatted again, heedless of his jacket pooling on the ground.

“There’s a separate section for poultry,” Percival told him, nodding a bit further along the wall where the turkey was kept. Newt stood and came to stand next to Percival in front of the cooler and made his selection.

“Great,” he muttered, rummaging around in his basket and dropping the package of meat in. “I think I have everything…” he glanced up at Percival and smiled briefly. “Thanks, Percival.”

“See you around, Newt.” Percival watched him hurry away, examining his walk, and turned his attention back to his own efforts.

He caught sight of Newt in the check out a few minutes later while the cashier rang through his steak and seasoning rub. He paid and came up behind Newt who was crouched on the floor out of the way, rearranging his purchases in two large cloth shopping bags. “Need a hand?”

Newt startled, spinning and standing at the same time. His eyes were wide, and it took him a moment to recognize Percival. “Oh! Um, pardon?”

Percival nodded at his bags. “Do you want a hand bringing these out? Did you drive here? Do you have a car?” he added, realizing he didn’t know if either Newt or Gellert owned a car.

“Oh, no,” Newt shook his head. “I mean, I don’t drive. Gellert does. I don’t, er, have a license…” he trailed off, sounding embarrassed. Percival gave him an easy grin.

“No need for both of you to drive. I can give you a ride home if you like.” When Newt didn’t answer, standing stock still like the offer had frozen him, Percival said uncertainly, “unless you weren’t going home, that is.”

“No, I am,” Newt said quietly. He seemed to debate for a moment, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, before nodding. “That should be all right. Thank you.” He bent to pick up his shopping bags, the clinking of glass soft in the hallway of the market. He followed Percival out to the car, and folded himself into the front seat, quickly snapping his seat belt on and holding his bags close on his lap.

They pulled out of the parking lot, and silence reigned for the first two minutes of the ten minute drive. Percival cast about for a topic of conversation.

“So where did you and Gellert move from?”

Newt startled at his voice. “Uh, a small town outside of Pennsylvania. We wanted to live in a bigger city that had more amenities, and more work for Gellert.”

“And what did you do before your accident?” Percival didn’t think he was being too blunt in asking, but he was curious and Newt didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to.

“I was in school, actually.”

“Oh? What were you studying?” Percival kept his voice light, friendly.

“Environmental science,” Newt replied. He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up even more than it had been. “My interest lay in conservation efforts. Mankind is expanding too rapidly for animals to have sustainable land, and the conflicts between species are only going to get worse the longer—“ Newt cut himself off abruptly.

After a moment of silence Percival prompted, “the longer what?”

“Um, the longer it…remains unchecked,” Newt muttered, turning his head to look out the window.

“Well,” Percival said in the awkward silence that ensued, “I’m sorry you had to give it up. It sounds like something that made you happy.”

Newt nodded jerkily but said nothing more. Percival didn’t push it, instead keeping his attention fixed on the road. Soon enough they were pulling into the parking lot under their building. Newt followed Percival in silence into the elevator, keeping a tight grip on his shopping bags, avoiding eye contact. Percival’s mind was whispering at him, pointing out small aspects of Newt’s behaviour that correlated with past encounters, and he came to a decision.

When they arrived at the eighth floor, Percival smiled at Newt and asked, “would you like to come in for coffee?”

Newt seemed surprised by the offer but quickly shook his head. “Thank you, but I shouldn’t.” He set his bags down in the hallway and searched through his pockets. His face clouded. “Oh bugger.”

“Problem?” Percival asked.

Newt was patting his pockets frantically, then dropped to his knees and began pawing through his groceries. “I think I dropped my bloody keys somewhere along the way—“ he groaned suddenly. “The _dog_. Of course. How could I have been so stupid?” he muttered angrily.

“What’s a dog got to do with anything?” Percival asked, noting how worked up Newt was becoming.

“There was a rather enthusiastic dog I met on my walk to the store,” Newt explained from where he was still on his knees, helplessly lifting a bundle of carrots out of the bag and poking around under them. “I let him jump all over me, and probably had my keys knocked out when I did. Stupid,” he said under his breath.

“Don’t sweat it,” Percival said mildly. “You can get another copy made by the office, it only costs a little bit. Do you have your ID with you? You’ll need it.”

Newt pulled a face as he stood. “No, I haven’t got any—not on me,” he added hurriedly, casting his eyes to the floor.

“You can wait in my apartment until Gellert gets home,” Percival offered, though he was hung up on Newt’s quickly altered comment. Did Newt truly not have any sort of identification? He knew Newt was going to refuse his offer so he said firmly, “I won’t let you stand in the hall until he gets home. Why don’t you just call him or send him a text and let him know what’s up and come inside?”

Newt hesitated, glancing quickly between Percival and his apartment door which by this time Percival had unlocked and swung open. “He doesn’t have a mobile phone. Neither of us do. It would be better if I just slipped a note under the door for him anyways,” Newt said haltingly, like he still had to convince himself.

Percival entered his apartment and grabbed the notepad and pen that he kept on the hall table next to his seldom used landline and offered them to Newt, who looked around the hall as if he was about to be caught doing something he wasn’t meant to do before accepting the proffered items and frowning in concentration as he slowly scrawled a message. He tore off the topmost piece of paper and went to his own apartment and stuffed it under the door.

Percival had brought Newt’s shopping into his own front foyer for him and was standing at the coffee machine on the island in his kitchen. “Make yourself at home,” he told Newt who hovered uncertainly in the doorway. “You don’t have to take your shoes off,” he added when he saw Newt bend to do just that.

Newt paused, and straightened, wiping his feet on the mat at the door before crossing to stand on the other side of the island. He unwound the scarf from his neck and laid it on the counter. “That’s such a delightfully American aspect,” he noted, sitting at one of the tall bar stools.

“What is?” Percival asked, rooting through his basket of coffee disks for his favourite blend.

“Shoes in the house,” Newt explained. “I used to watch a few American television programs when I was growing up, and it always fascinated me that the characters would wear their shoes through the house.”

Percival popped a disk into the slot of the coffee machine and grinned at Newt. “I suppose you two don’t wear shoes indoors?”

“No,” Newt said, looking aghast at the thought. “Why _would_ you? After traipsing all over the outdoors, stepping in lord knows what, then bringing it into your home, on your carpets…it’s prehistoric.” He seemed taken aback by his own words and quickly clammed up, a faint blush colouring his cheeks.

Percival laughed as he pulled two mugs from a cupboard. “Well, are you above accepting coffee from a caveman?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Newt said, fidgeting on the bar stool. Percival grinned to himself; it was too easy with Newt. He pushed his basket of coffee disks towards Newt for him to make a selection. Soon the two of them sat across from each other with steaming mugs.

“So besides grocery shopping, how do you pass your free time if you aren’t working?” Percival stirred his coffee, purposely clinking his spoon all around the inside of the mug, offering an audible distraction.

Newt shrugged, turning his cup around in his hands. “I’ve been meaning to explore the city a bit, see what sort of entertainment there is nearby. Where we used to live, I sometimes volunteered at the animal shelter, just walking the dogs or cleaning out their cages, that sort of thing.”

“The humane society here is always looking for extra hands, especially during the week when most people are at their nine to five job,” Percival said, pleased for knowing that. “And Gellert seems to work most of the day so that would give you something to keep busy with.”

“Ah, yes, I suppose it would,” Newt said woodenly, avoiding his host’s eyes. “I do still have some things to do around the apartment, get settled and such.”

“It can take time to make a new place feel like home,” Percival agreed. He kept his tone light, neutral. “Has Gellert been finding much work here as a freelance consultant?”

“Oh yes,” Newt said in a rush, nodding. “That is, enough, you know, not too much…he’s happy,” Newt finished. He took a long drink of his coffee, and Percival noticed the slight wince at the heat.

“I’m interested to know, what sort of work does he consult on?” Percival was curious to see if Newt would answer, honestly or at all.

“Um, well, it’s a bit of, of everything,” Newt said hesitantly. “There’s more of—“

A sudden loud knocking at the door made Newt jump, and suddenly his coffee mug lay shattered on the floor, the hot liquid eagerly spreading over the smooth hardwood.

“Oh my, I am so sorry!” Newt cried. He leapt to his feet and snatched the roll of thick paper towels that hung near the kitchen sink.

“It’s all right,” Percival told him, slightly taken aback by his reaction. Newt was picking up soaked shards of mug with a handful of paper towel, crouched on the floor and working quickly. Percival heard him curse under his breath and he saw a bright flash of red. “Did you cut yourself?”

The door fairly shook in its frame at another bout of knocking and Percival pulled Newt to his feet. “I will clean this up and see who’s trying to break down my door. Wash your finger,” he ordered, shoving Newt to the sink. He dropped some towels on the small puddle and crossed to the front door, pulling it open to reveal Gellert, red faced and with his fist raised to knock again.

“Afternoon, Gellert,” Percival began but he was pushed out of the way as the other man stepped inside. He stood inside the entranceway and stared at Newt at the sink, who had turned around, shoulders hunched, with a look of guilt painting his face.

“Hi,” Newt said, so quietly he was barely audible. He reached behind himself and shut the water off.

“What are you doing?” Gellert’s voice was flat. Newt cast his gaze from the floor to his boyfriend, and briefly at Percival, seeming uncertain.

“I ran into Newt at the grocery store,” Percival said to diffuse the uncomfortable silence. “He lost his keys so I offered to let him wait for you here. Did you not get the note he left you?”

Gellert turned cold eyes on him, but he smiled, a slow pull of his lips that quirked up the corners and showed off small, even teeth. “Yes, _thank you_ , I did get the note.”

Percival felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up but forced his expression to remain neutral. Newt came over to them, worriedly looking at Gellert and holding his cut finger tightly. Gellert reached an arm up to circle Newt’s shoulders. “Best we get home,” he said to Newt who nodded quickly.

“I have a bandage if you need one for your finger,” Percival said before they could leave. Gellert spoke without looking at him.

“I’ll take care of him at home. Thank you.” Percival knew better than to push, so he simply stooped to grab Newt’s bags of groceries and offered them up. Newt took them from him and then was being led into the hall. Gellert swung the door shut behind the two of them, and Percival was left alone with a sinking feeling in his stomach.  

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.

It was after dinner, after Percival had cleaned up the spilled coffee and the rest of the broken mug, after he had worked his way through a beer, trying to calm the whirling thoughts in his head, that his eyes fell on Newt’s scarf still curled on the island. He forgot Newt had taken it off, but he wasn’t surprised at himself for forgetting; seeing Gellert and hearing his voice so cold had thrown him for a loop. His mind was helpfully pointing things out to him, connecting the dots that Percival didn’t want to exist, and he was coming to the realization that he was going to have to do something.

First, he would need proof. Proof that Gellert was physically abusing Newt.

And returning this scarf might be a good starting place.

He didn’t bother to lock his door when he went into the hall and down to his neighbours’ apartment. He didn’t allow himself to hesitate, instead settling himself into the mindset he lived in when he was following someone for work: alert, eyes and mind ready to notice everything no matter how trivial it may seem.

He waited patiently after he knocked, careful to keep his expression neutral even as his ears strained to hear any hint of movement from within. After nearly a minute passing with no sign or sound, he knocked again, then called out for good measure.

“Hey, guys? It’s Percival.” Still nothing. “I’m just bringing over something you forgot at my place.”

After a moment of debate he pressed his ear to the door and held his breath, but there was no sound of footsteps or muffled voices, no music playing or water running. He pulled away with a frown, and slowly backed away from the door, and made his way back to his own apartment.

When the scarf was back on the island, he kneeled on his couch and listened for any hint of life from Newt and Gellert’s bedroom. The wall was cold on his cheek, unyielding. He heard nothing there either.

If Percival had been able to see through walls, well, that would be a different story. Then he would have seen Newt held down facefirst on the bed, a strong hand gripping the back of his neck tightly and keeping his face buried in the pillow. He would have seen the concentrated look on Gellert’s face as he manhandled Newt, his other hand holding Newt’s hip bruisingly tight. Maybe, with his limited skill in lip reading, he would be able to decipher the hateful words Gellert muttered, his face twisted in an ugly visage. He would see how Newt, despite being unbound, didn’t try to fight Gellert off, how he just kept his hands balled into fists near his head, like he was conditioned to not fight back, like he knew the consequences of trying to stop Gellert. He would have seen Newt struggling to turn his face to gasp in air and how Gellert held him in place, ignoring the panicked thrashing as Newt fought to breathe, forcing him to stay still, as Newt’s struggles grew weaker.

If Percival’s gaze could penetrate spackle and wood beams, he would have seen Gellert pull back from Newt and nonchalantly flip him onto his back, examining his red face mildly, sitting back on his haunches while affecting the air of one waiting for a bus to drive around the corner. He would have seen Newt come to life with a wracking cough, spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth, eyes watering heavily, hands flitting from his neck to his chest as he gasped in great gulps of air. He would have seen Gellert pull Newt to a sitting position, and wrap his arms around him while chastising him gently at the same time, and Newt raise shaking arms to circle them limply around Gellert’s waist.

Yet Percival had not the ability to see through solid objects, and the noise from the other side of the wall was nonexistent to his ears, so he flopped on the couch resolutely, arms crossed while he thought of what his next step would be.

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“Man, Percy, you really don’t believe in the personal touches, do you?” Jacob Kowalski said with a grin as he sat in Percival’s living room.

“No,” Percival deadpanned, “nor do I believe in nicknames, no matter how long I’ve known the person.”

Jacob laughed and settled back against the couch. “All right, point taken. So tell me, what’s so pressing you demanded my presence on one of my rare days off that by all rights should be spent at home with my wife?”

Percival pulled a face as he passed Jacob a mug of beer and sat in an armchair across from him. “I need your advice on something, something ugly. A case of domestic abuse.”

The jovial wrinkles on Jacob’s face settled into a frown. “What do you know?”

Percival jerked his head to the wall behind Jacob, the direction of Newt and Gellert’s apartment. “I got some new neighbours last week. A nice British guy and his boyfriend. I don’t know much about the one except what his extremely possessive boyfriend tells me or lets him tell me. Gellert, that’s the bossy little shit. Looks like an electrocuted toothbrush. It’s very unsettling to look him in the eye. There’s something not right about him, besides the fact that he probably beats Newt black and blue.”

“Have you seen any bruises on…Newt, is it?” Jacob asked, glancing up from the notepad he was scribbling in. “Any visual signs of trauma?”

“Aside from him limping down the hall to the garbage chute once, no,” Percival admitted. “And honestly, even that could have a reasonable explanation. Apparently he was in an accident last year, and had to drop out of his schooling as a result. But the problem is—“

“Is his limp a residual side effect from the accident, or something his boyfriend did to him,” Jacob finished. He frowned down at his scarce notes. “What else do you know about either of them? Last names?”

Percival shook his head. “No, I think Gellert was very careful to make sure I wouldn’t find those out. He says he’s a freelance consultant, and Newt was in school. I don’t know what he did for work, if he did work before school.” Percival didn’t know much, true, but that was why he had asked Jacob to look into it. He figured with the database at his disposal Jacob would get farther than Percival could with a measly search engine. And a cop and P.I getting on so well just benefitted the both of them.

Jacob looked down at his notepad. “I don’t even know if I’ve got their names spelled right. But I’ll look into them both. But, Percival,” he glanced up, an unhappy turn to his lips, “domestic abuse cases are difficult. The majority of the time, if you don’t catch someone knocking their guy or girl flat out, you got nothing. And even then, the one taking the hits may not press charges. They’re conditioned to live like that, and they’re too scared to speak against their abuser. I’ve seen it more than I’d like.”

Percival rolled his beer bottle between his palms. “I know, but Newt is _smart_. I think he would do what’s right for himself, if he just could separate from Gellert.”

“I know you think that, P, but you gotta be honest with yourself: how well do you actually know this guy? How long has he been with Gellert? How long has the suspected abuse been going on for?” Jacob sighed and set his empty mug on the coffee table. “Can you find out if he has any family? I know you said he’s British, but maybe he’s got parents or siblings over here too. He could have been living stateside for twenty years, for all you know.”

Percival nodded slowly, considering. “Well, Gellert works during the day, or so he says. Newt seems to spend all of his free time in their apartment or running errands. I’m sure I’ll have a chance to talk to Newt alone again.” He remembered Gellert’s anger at discovering Newt in his apartment last week, after their meeting in the grocery store, and his stomach gave a funny twist. He had only seen Newt once briefly in passing since then, in the lobby of the apartment building. Newt had been waiting outside of the office, Percival figured getting a new key, and he had given Percival a small nod but nothing else. And then Gellert had emerged from the office, and fixed Percival with a flat smile while wrapping his arm around Newt’s waist and pulling him close. Percival was wary of talking to Newt if it meant risking Gellert’s ire.

He groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Can’t I just go next door and knock him senseless? What are the chances the charges against me would stick?”

Jacob gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s hard, feeling like you’re sitting back and doing nothing. But believe me, in a case like this you want to do everything by the book. And who knows, maybe I’ll find something on this Gellert fella, like a warrant or breach of probation and I can haul his ass in.”

Percival allowed his hopes to be slightly buoyed at the thought. He had just stood to refill Jacob’s beer mug when there was a knock at his door. He exchanged a glance with the seated police officer, and crossed to his entryway and pulled the door open.

Gellert greeted him with a slimy sneer. “Percival. How have you been?”

Percival forced a grin to his face and answered casually. “All right, Gellert. How about you?” He was aware of Jacob standing at the mention of his neighbour’s name.

“Oh, fine, fine as can be,” Gellert replied breezily. He caught sight of Jacob hovering near the couch. “Who’s your friend, Percival?”

“Jacob Goldstein,” Jacob said, striding across the room and pushing past Percival to offer his hand. Gellert considered him for a moment before reaching for a handshake.

“Charmed.” He turned back to Percival, and bared his teeth in an imitation of a smile. “I wonder, Percival, if you recall, last week when you met Newt at the grocery store.” He paused, keeping his eyes fixed on Percival, who nodded after it seemed Gellert wasn’t going to continue. “Seems Newt left something of his here.”

For a moment Percival drew a blank, then clarity was granted. “Oh, you mean his scarf? Yeah, I tried to bring it over right after you two had left but I guess you had gone out.” He watched Gellert’s eyes, to see if they would give anything away, but they remained as impassive as ever.

Gellert said nothing, merely levelled an unsettling gaze his way, and Percival shifted and added, “I put it in the hall closet. I’ll, uh, grab it for you.” He left Gellert and Jacob at an impasse at the door and quickly pulled the scarf from the hanger in the closet. Jacob had fixed Gellert with his patented policeman’s stare and the air between them was charged with tension.

Percival fairly shoved the scarf into Gellert’s hands. “Here you are. Tell Newt I said hello. How’s he doing, I haven’t seen much of him lately.”

“He’s in perfect health,” Gellert replied. His gaze danced over Jacob again and he smirked. “Lovely to meet you, Mr Goldstein.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Jacob replied with a forced grin. With that, Gellert turned on his heel and was gone, down the hall. Percival shut the door and locked it, then turned to Jacob.

“Well?”

Jacob shuddered in response. Percival grimaced; he knew what he meant by that. Music suddenly started up from behind the wall separating his apartment from Newt and Gellert’s. Percival thought a moment then asked, “Mr. Goldstein?”

Jacob shrugged as he pulled his jacket on. “That guy has gone home to dig up everything he can on me. I figure why raise his suspicions and let him know you have a cop friend. Queenie’s maiden name ain’t gonna turn up nothing.”

“Good point,” Percival said. “I noticed he didn’t introduce himself to you.”

“Not surprising, given the vibe he was giving off,” Jacob pointed out. “Talk about the heebie jeebies. What’s with the hair? And the skin tone of the living dead, _yeesh_.” He shook his head. “Anyways, I’m going to head out, maybe stop by the landlord on my way and kindly ask him for some last names on those two. I’m guessing their buzzer is listed as ‘occupied’.” Percival nodded; it had been one of the first places he had thought to look to find a last name and he had been met with disappointment. “Yeah, I figured. I’m going to get looking into these guys, don’t worry, P.” Jacob chuckled and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “To be honest, at first I didn’t think it was as bad as all that, that maybe you were just kinda, you know…” he trailed off.

Percival frowned. “Kind of what?”

Jacob coughed and looked away as if embarrassed. “You know, kinda…jealous. Of this Gellert guy, cause you were sweet on his boyfriend. Maybe reading too much into things. Don’t hit me!” he cried, raising his hands defensively against Percival’s menacing glower. “You can’t hit a cop!”

Percival rolled his eyes. “All right, _officer_ ,” he relented, “but don’t think it’s my libido that’s making me see things that aren’t there. I have a bad feeling about this whole situation, and I think you do, too.”

Jacob sighed and nodded. “I definitely didn’t like the looks of him. And your instincts serve you well, it’s only an idiot who ignores them, ‘specially when they’re screaming this loud.” He pulled the door open. “I’ll be in touch. In the meantime, keep your eyes and ears open, but Percival,” he waited until Percival met his gaze, “be careful about trying to talk to either of them, but especially Newt. We don’t want to raise this guy’s hackles.”

Percival nodded. “I’ll be smart. And…thanks. I mean it.”

Jacob waved him off, then stepped out the door and after casting a glance down the hall towards the apartment at the end, made for the elevator. Percival leaned in the doorway until Jacob was swallowed up by the elevator, and couldn’t help his own glance down the hall, butterflies dancing in his stomach. It might not be much, but he had got the ball rolling on getting Newt help.

He only hoped it wasn’t too little, too late.

.

.

.

“I’d have to say my _favourite_ part about all this was finding Mr. Thorne waving the giant rattle around,” Tina said thoughtfully as she dug through her Chinese take-out box with plastic chopsticks. “He was absolutely mortified, of course, and it took everything in me not to die of laughter, but come on: I’m expecting him to be cheating on his wife and instead find out he’s an adult baby ‘enthusiast’.” She snorted and shook her head, sucking back a healthy helping of lo mein. “And you know what Mrs. Thorne said to me when I went back to tell her what I had found out? ‘ _At least he’s keeping his penis where it belongs’_. Ha! Honestly, I don’t think she knew how to react. Hell, its been three days and _I_ still don’t know how to react.” She peered at Percival sitting across the table from her, his own lunch untouched. “Earth to Graves, come in, Graves.”

“Hmm?” Percival glanced up from where he had been fiddling with his chopsticks. Tina rolled her eyes.

“All right, will you just tell me what’s bugging you please? You’ve either been stomping around the office in a huff or looking really mournful at your desk. So what is it?”

Percival sighed and dropped his chopsticks. “It’s nothing, really. Just something funny going on in my building.”

Tina tapped her finger against the tabletop, looking like she was deep in thought about something. She rolled the words around in her mouth before spitting them out. “Does this ‘something funny’ got anything to do with Jacob?”

“What?” Percival all but gasped. Jacob wouldn’t have said anything to his wife or her sister about this. Would he have? No, Percival told himself firmly, he knew he could trust Jacob. But then—“why do you say that?”

Tina shrugged, still watching him thoughtfully. “Queenie said he came back from your place the other day acting _twitchy_. What would give him cause to act _twitchy,_ Percival?”

He rolled his eyes at her suspicious tone. “You can relax, Tina. Don’t go thinking you have to tail your brother-in-law. There’s some funny people that moved in next to me, and I wanted to see if he could find out something I couldn’t, using his resources.” He knew Tina was like a dog with a bone when curious about something, so he meaningfully added, “it’s not really my place to say any more.”

Tina raised her hands in surrender. “All right, don’t go looking to bite my head off. I was wondering only cause of how you’ve been acting the last few days, and that coupled with what Queenie said about Jacob…”

“You were worried,” Percival said. Tina glared at him.

“ _No._ I don’t worry. I find out and I solve.” Her expression softened, and she tentatively asked, “Is it, you know, bad?”

Percival shrugged, ignoring his gut urging him to spill everything to Tina, if only to have someone else to sound off his worries to. “Nothing Jacob can’t help me with, I’m sure.”

“All right,” Tina nodded, picking up her chopsticks once again. She levelled one at him from across the table. “But you know if you need my help with anything, I’m here.”

Percival grinned at her. “Thanks, Tina.” He didn’t make friends lightly, but he was glad he had trusted his instincts when he had first met Tina. She had long ago proven she was worth her weight in gold.

Not that he’d ever tell her that, of course.

.

.

.

Percival parked his car and shut off the engine. He spent a minute sitting in the quiet, mulling over things, feeling as though his head wasn’t big enough to contain all his thoughts, when a figure in his rearview mirror caught his eye.

He ducked low in his seat, practically sliding underneath the steering wheel when he saw Gellert crossing the parking garage. Percival tracked his progress through his mirrors, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw him climb into a sleek black car and drive out. It took him a minute of being grateful he hadn’t had an interaction with the man when the light went off in his head.

Gellert had left. Which meant, Newt was alone.

Percival fairly leapt out of his car and dashed to the elevator, jabbing the call button even as the doors slid open. He belatedly held out his key fob and locked his car from the elevator, not really caring if it worked from this far or not, but the reassuring _beep_ sounded as the doors shut.

He pressed the ‘8’ button and then forced himself to slow down and think. He couldn’t go bursting into Newt’s apartment with his suspicions of abuse and dramatically pull him away to safety. Jacob was right; situations like this had to be handled carefully. Percival doubted Newt would be truthful with him right from the start, for fear of repercussion from Gellert.

And there was, a voice reminded him, the chance that he was wrong about the whole thing. Sure, Gellert was controlling and possessive, but maybe he didn’t actually get physical with Newt, which would make Percival look like an idiot for getting so worked up over a relationship that, while not perfect, wasn’t really hurting anyone.

He kept his eyes fixed on the blinking indicator, nearing his floor, and by the time the doors opened he had a plan. He would make his goal to find out if Newt had family living in the country or not, and maybe push a little to see what Newt thought of Gellert. See if he could talk about Gellert without sounding like an automaton that had its lines down pat.

Percival walked briskly down the hall, passing his own apartment without a second glance, and stood in front of Newt’s door. He hesitated only briefly before raising his fist and knocking sharply. He listened hard for footsteps, ears straining, but there was nothing. He _knew_ Newt was in there, he would bet his life on it. Gellert had been alone when he drove off, and Percival doubted very much he was on his way to pick Newt up from his book club.

He waited a New York minute, then knocked again. “Newt?” he called after clearing his throat. “It’s Percival. I need your help with something,” he bluffed. Aha. Now he heard muffled footsteps approaching the door; he had hoped he wouldn’t be able to ignore Percival needing help.

The door was pulled open, barely halfway, and Newt peered around at him. “Hello, Percival,” he said, with the smallest of smiles. His lips trembled slightly. “Can I help you?”

Percival forced himself to exude a calming aura. He smiled broadly at Newt and nodded. “Yes, I’m hoping you can. Believe it or not, I’m trying my hand at baking tonight, and of course I’m ill prepared for it. I was looking to borrow some things from you.”

Newt glanced past him down the hall. “Oh, s-sure. I mean, if we have what you need, yes, you can certainly have it. Um, why don’t you tell me what you need, and I can check.”

“Eggs, and, uh, vanilla,” Percival fibbed. He wanted Newt to invite him in, and hoped by adding the elusive ‘vanilla’ it would take Newt longer to search his cupboards thereby giving them more chance to talk.

Newt nodded and withdrew. “I’ll just get you those then, no need for measurements, you can use what you need.” Percival stopped him from shutting the door.

“I hate to be a bother but could I step in to use your washroom while I’m here? Please,” he added.

Newt shook his head and fussed with the buttons on his sweater vest. He looked down the hall once again. “It’s best if you just wait here, I—“ he broke off mid-sentence at the harsh jingle of a telephone ringing from inside the apartment. “Oh! I have to…” Newt was quickly gone from the door, leaving it ajar, and after his own glance down the hall Percival followed him in.

He stood just inside the apartment and looked around. It was almost a carbon copy of his, though the hall closet was on a different side and the balcony wrapped around two walls. Newt was talking on the landline that hung just outside of the kitchen. His voice was soft enough that Percival could hardly make out every other word, but he would bet his bottom dollar that it was Gellert on the other end.

He took in as much of the apartment as he could see from the entranceway, and was struck by how clean and orderly it was. There were magazines on the coffee table stacked so neatly they could have been set in stone. The two pairs of shoes at the front door were polished to a brilliant gleam, and the heels were lined up perfectly with the edge of the mat.

“I’m sorry,” he could hear Newt say. “I really thought…no, you’re right. I know. I will. I’m sorry.” He muttered something Percival didn’t hear, then hung the phone back on its cradle. He stood for a moment frozen, his shoulders hunched as he worried at his fingernails, then all at once he suddenly became aware of his uninvited guest.

“Oh! Percival. Right. The…eggs.” He seemed distracted. Percival watched him chewing his lip, pulling at the bottom of his sweater vest.

“And vanilla,” Percival nodded. “If it isn’t too much trouble. My sister is unexpectedly coming for a visit tonight, and I have to prove I can make edible things.” He spoke woodenly as he saw how Newt moved into the kitchen; stiffly, like he was sore all over and afraid of moving too quickly and causing more pain. He didn’t even hear himself talking as he saw Newt shakily reach into the cupboard above the stove. He took in how Newt’s left hand remained tight, the fingers curled in as though they wouldn’t- or couldn’t- straighten.

He arranged his face into a relaxed hold as Newt made his way over to him, holding himself with the utmost care as he carried Percival’s ingredients in a bowl. Percival noticed his left hand kept in the pocket of his vest, but he said nothing about it.

“Thanks a lot, Newt,” he said as he reached for the bowl holding a half dozen eggs and a small bottle of vanilla extract. “If I had had more notice I could have got this myself, but you know how siblings are,” Percival sighed and shook his head at Newt. “Oh, do you have any siblings? I never thought…” he trailed off and shrugged.

“S-siblings? Uh…” Newt’s mouth worked like he had words stuck inside that wanted to be spoken despite his hesitance. “Yes, I’ve got an older brother.”

“Oh really? Does he live here too, or is he at home in England?” Percival asked brightly. Newt had taken to keeping his eyes level with Percival’s collar.

“I, I don’t know, exactly,” Newt admitted. “I’m afraid we had a bit of a falling out a few years ago, you see—“ The sudden _ding_ that heralded the arrival of the elevator had Newt stark white in an instant. His eyes filled with fear, and he was gasping at Percival to hurry along, pushing against him in a bid to get him out the door. Percival didn’t resist, but he had to admit he felt a flood of relief when he was in the hall and saw Miranda Gordon walking to her apartment, the elevator doors sliding shut behind her.

Behind him, Newt fairly sagged against his door, then winced and straightened, his hand coming to rest on his middle. He looked awful, like he was about to throw up mightily after seeing a ghost. Percival was hit with a flood of concern and guilt and something altogether undefinable. He reached out and laid a gentle hand on Newt’s shoulder.

“Are you all right, Newt?” He could feel faint vibrations under his hand as Newt trembled.

“Fine, yes,” Newt answered automatically. He pulled away from Percival quickly. “I better get inside, have to finish some things.” He was already stepping back into his apartment. Percival tried again.

“I’ll bring these back after I’ve mutilated the recipe.”

Newt shook his head, starting to swing the door shut. “No, you keep it, it’s best—just keep it, that’s fine, I really must be going, goodnight, Percival.” And just like that the door was shut, and Percival could hear the door lock.

Percival stormed to his own apartment, angrily jabbing his key into the lock and almost slamming the door behind him. He stared into the bowl of baking supplies Newt had given him, set on his counter, then took an egg out and slammed his fist onto it. Cold, slimy yolk and egg white coated his hand, and he imagined it thicker, warmer, redder. He obliterated another egg, and allowed himself one more before deciding to call Jacob and demand to know how bad it would be if he were to drag Newt from his apartment and lock him somewhere safe, somewhere that bleached blond fucker couldn’t find him.

Percival dug his cell phone from his jacket pocket, and was heartened to see a text message from Jacob waiting for him.

_For starters: Newt Scamander. Gellert Grindelwald. Call me a.s.a.p. There’s more._

Percival wasted no time calling Jacob. “When can we meet?”

.

.

.

“Theseus Scamander.” Jacob pushed a folder across the table to Percival, opened to a picture of a smartly dressed man staring straight into the camera, leaning against a large desk with the British flag hanging on the wall behind him. Jacob nodded at the glossy sheet. “Go ahead and read what it says.”

Percival skimmed the paragraphs underneath the picture, which was printed off a website. His jaw dropped and he looked at Jacob incredulously. “Are you shitting me?” He picked the sheet up and waved it at Jacob. “You’re telling me _this_ is Newt’s brother?”

Jacob nodded. “Hand to God,” he swore, raising his hand as if about to swear an oath.

“The British ambassador to the States,” Percival muttered, shaking his head as he read the blurb underneath the photo again. “New to it, too, barely two years now.” He allowed his gaze to rest on the man- Newt’s brother- pictured, and tried to pick out physical attributes he had seen in Newt.

“So we know he’s got at least one family member living in the country,” Jacob said, sitting back in the booth. He had suggested meeting Percival at a large chain coffee shop, so there would be no fear of running into Gellert. “You got any idea what you want to do next?”

Percival chewed on his thumb thoughtfully, his coffee sitting untouched in front of him, ordered more for show than want. “How hard you think it is to talk to an ambassador? Newt said he had had a ‘falling out’ with his brother a couple years ago and they hadn’t talked since.”

“That could very well be Gellert’s doing, driving a wedge between Newt and his support system,” Jacob interjected. “It’s a very common tactic in cases of abuse.”

“I’m sure if we go to the ambassador with news of his brother he would be more than happy to see us.” Percival hoped so anyway. He knew if he was in Theseus’ position, no contact with his younger sibling in years, he wouldn’t have had a moment of peace in those years. The man was probably eager for any news of his brother.

“All right, good,” Jacob nodded, “’cause I already got in touch with his office and we have an expedited appointment Friday afternoon at two.” He shrugged at Percival’s surprised look. “He’s still so new to his position, I don’t think he knows he can politely refuse a request from a small-town cop. And I stressed it was urgent but didn’t mention anything about Newt.”

Percival grimaced. “All right, so how are we going to talk to him about this? We need some kind of strategy.”

“Honestly, the more straightforward we are the better. Tell him the facts as we know them, and then see what he wants to do. I’m sure as the ambassador he knows his way around the laws of the land.” Jacob turned his own untouched coffee around in his hands. “You’re going to have to have everything straight in your head too, Perce, because its been you and not me who’s seen Newt firsthand.”

“I won’t leave anything out,” Percival promised. “I couldn’t forget any of it if I wanted to.”

.

.

.

The waiting room for the British ambassador to the United States of America was large, richly furnished, and near silent. Just like the rest of the consulate building, in fact. Newt was soft spoken too; Percival figured it must be a British thing. Beside him in an identical deep leather armchair, Jacob was fiddling with his badge, looking as nervous as Percival felt. They were pretty much walking in blind to a potentially volatile situation; neither had any idea of the relationship between Newt and this Theseus. Perhaps they had never been close. Or Theseus knew full well the extent of Newt’s relationship with Gellert and didn’t care. The two hour drive here, Percival had turned over the worst case scenarios in his head endlessly. He preferred to be prepared for the worst. He had long ago given up on hoping for the best.

The receptionist, who looked as though she prayed at the altar of perfect posture and flawless skin every day, stood up from behind her desk and came to stand in front of it. Percival and Jacob exchanged a surreptitious look when they caught sight of her shoes, heels so high they looked like daggers she stood on, and both stood as well.

“The ambassador will see you now,” she told them in her clipped British accent. She smiled at them, which relieved some of the tension, and they followed her across the room to imposing double doors, heavy oak with ornately carved handles. She knocked once, then pushed one door open, and stood aside for the two of them. Percival thanked her as he walked into the office, hearing Jacob do the same behind him, and faltered slightly at the figure behind the desk.

Ambassador Theseus Scamander laid his pen down and stood, buttoning the front of what to Percival looked like an exorbitantly expensive suit, and offered them a small but sincere smile. “Thank you, Miss Woods,” he nodded, and Miss Woods smiled back and shut the door behind her on her way out. His immaculately polished shoes rapped a professional rhythm on the gleaming hardwood floor as he came out from behind his desk to approach the two of them. “Afternoon, gentlemen. I am Ambassador Scamander. Pleased to meet you.”

Percival shook his head clear of the image of this giant of a man ripping Gellert apart limb from limb, and reached for the offered hand. “It’s an honour, Mr. Ambassador. My name is Percival Graves, and this is my colleague, Jacob Kowalski.”

Percival saw the way Jacob’s eyebrows lifted slightly at the firm handshake from the ambassador, and he gave Percival a look that suggested immediate approval. “It’s good to meet you, sir,” Jacob told him.

Scamander waved them over to a sitting area next to a large picture window. “Make yourselves comfortable,” he told them, sitting in the armchair closest to the window. He had more grey in his hair than Percival had seen in his picture from online. “Would either of you care for a refreshment of any kind?”

Percival and Jacob both declined, seating themselves across from the ambassador in identical armchairs that Percival was pleased to note were no more luxurious than those in the outer office. Scamander sat back in his chair and smiled kindly at them. “Tell me, gentlemen, what can the British ambassador to the United States of America do for a police officer and private investigator?”

Percival exchanged a quick glance with Jacob; they had decided to be as straightforward as possible, and Percival had vowed to keep own personal feelings to himself, and only explain the facts as he knew them, and let the ambassador draw his own conclusions.

“Mr. Ambassador, do you have a younger brother named Newt?” Percival started. Scamander immediately lost his relaxed pose; he sat bolt upright and looked urgently from Percival to Jacob and back.

“Is Newt all right? Has something happened? Please,” he said, voice wavering slightly. He cleared his throat. “What’s this about?”

“We didn’t mean to scare you,” Jacob said, leaning forward in his seat, his policeman persona taking over. “Newt is all right.”

_In a manner of speaking,_ Percival thought.

Scamander relaxed slightly but was still visibly on edge. “Do you know my brother? Have you seen him?”

Percival nodded. “Yes sir, we met about a month ago when he moved to our town.” He hesitated and glanced at Jacob. He knew what he was going to say but found it hard to begin. Scamander surprised Percival by briefly laying his hand on Percival’s knee.

“Please, Mr. Graves.” Scamander’s brilliant green eyes met his steadily. “I haven’t heard from him in nearly three years. Anything you can tell me, please, do so.”

.

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.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done fiiiinally. I hope you like what you read :) Maybe i rushed posting this but I can edit later :))))  
> REMEMBER the domestic abuse tag pleases.

“Thank you, Miss Woods,” Percival said as a steaming mug of coffee was set in front of him. Miss Woods smiled at him and nodded at Scamander - _Theseus_ , he had insisted- as she made her way from his office. The heavy door shut silently behind her, and Theseus stared contemplatively into his coffee cup.

“I’ve never been at such a loss,” he said after a moment. He set his mug down and dragged his hand over his face. “I was beginning to fear I would never hear from Newt again, and now you come to me with such terrifying news, I can’t…” he trailed off.  


Jacob leaned forward. “It’s hard to hear something like this, believe me, I know. And there’s no immediate solution, so please don’t beat yourself up if you don’t have a plan of action within minutes of hearing this.”

Theseus managed a small smile at Jacob. “Thank you, Jacob. I suppose it is a rather common occurrence for you, this business of delivering bad news to families.”

Jacob sat back slightly. “Yes, and it never gets easier. All I can do is my damndest to turn things around for the family. And that’s what we’re going to do for Newt. All of us,” he added, glancing at Percival who nodded quickly.

“All we have to do is decide where to start,” Percival said. He cleared his throat; his voice had begun to grow hoarse after more than an hour of talking with Jacob and the ambassador. Theseus had been as desperate for information about Newt as they had thought, and he was ready to charge out the door and rip Gellert limb from limb once he had been filled in.

Theseus chuckled in a way that held no humour. “I would voice my ideas, but I’m afraid to say them with a police officer in the room.”

Jacob gave him a wry grin. “That’s where your diplomatic immunity comes in.” Theseus snorted but said nothing. “Can I tell you what would be ideal with a case like this, for me?” At the ambassador’s nod Jacob continued. “I would talk with the battered spouse, and get them to tell me the truth. I’d catalogue their injuries, have them submit to a medical exam, and get into the history of the abuse: how long its been going on for, what sort of things sets the abuser off, has anyone ever been a witness to it, etcetera. Then I would get them sorted out with a restraining order, and then bring the abuser in, and they would immediately crack and admit to it all, get carted off, the end, hasta la vista.” Jacob pulled a face. “I can tell you right now: that has never happened.”

Theseus had taken a small drink of his coffee, and was running his thumb around the edge of his mug. “What do you suppose would happen if I just turned up on Newt’s doorstep?”

Jacob grimaced. “Truthfully?” Theseus nodded and Percival found he did as well. “Newt would categorically deny everything, pass off his injuries and any speculation with an itemized list of excuses, and once Gellert found out you had come around-- and he _would_ , make no mistake about that—they’d be in the wind. See, domestic abuse only works as long as the abuser has sole control over their victim. That’s why they alienate their husband or wife or whoever, so that they have no one to turn to, no one to ask if maybe hubby was a little unreasonable when Sunday’s meatloaf came out a bit burnt.”

Jacob ran his hand through his hair and tugged at the corner of his mustache. Theseus noticed the delaying tactic as well as Percival. “What is it?”

Jacob huffed a breath. “It’s just…we can’t _do_ anything unless your brother tells us he wants us to. The hardest part of cases like this is getting the victim to admit that there is abuse happening. A popular coping tactic is to pretend it doesn’t happen, so that every time it does they can excuse it, like ‘he had a bad day at work’ or ‘she’s just upset because her mother died.’ Newt needs to ask for help. And he’s in a delicate spot right now, we don’t want to scare him by coming on too strong because, much as you don’t like it, Gellert is all he has, and who he’ll be inclined to turn to if he feels threatened.” Jacob sighed. “It’s a tough spot.”

“The only reason Gellert is ‘all Newt has’ is because he ripped him out of my life three years ago,” Theseus said scathingly. “I did _not_ choose to be shut out of my brother’s life, I would be there for him in a heartbeat like I have been all of his life—”

“Theseus,” Percival spoke up, in an effort to stem the tirade, “Jacob wasn’t blaming you.” To his side, Jacob shook his head adamantly. “That’s what abusers do best: they make themselves the sun, moon, and everything in between for their husband or girlfriend or whoever.”

Theseus visibly composed himself. “I am sorry,” he told Jacob. “I did not mean to take my frustration out on you.”

Jacob dismissed him easily. “Our priority is to get your brother in a safe place, away from Gellert. Even though at this point, all we’re working off of is speculation, but that’s pretty much par for the course in domestic abuse. It’s always suspicions until you either see it for yourself or someone comes forward.”

“I _know_ this isn’t just a case of someone being clumsy and having an overprotective boyfriend,” Percival said. “I’ve seen Newt wearing long sleeves and scarves no matter how warm it is, I’ve seen him develop a limp in the span of half an hour, and…other things,” he finished lamely when he saw the pinched look on Theseus’ face. _All right, Percival, no need to rehash his brother’s abuse a second time,_ he chided himself.

“What do we do?” Theseus asked. “What’s the best way to get Newt away from Gellert?” He spat Gellert’s name, holding in it more contempt than Percival thought anyone could ever portray. “Just ferret him away under our jackets in the dead of night without so much as a by-your-leave?”

“That’s what _I_ wanted to do,” Percival admitted, glancing at Jacob, who rolled his eyes.

“We need to talk to him. Alone. See what he’ll tell us. But we need a safe place to offer him to go…”

“My house.” Theseus spoke immediately. “It’s far enough from your city that he won’t have to worry about running in to _him_ , and Newt knows he’s safe with me.” A sad look passed over his face. “At least, he used to know that.”

“That’s something else to consider; the psychological aftermath.” Jacob shrugged, helplessly. “Newt may be too scared to step foot out of his apartment, or he may want to get as far away as possible.”

“I will help him find the best therapist available,” Theseus promised, “even if it means leaving this posting and going home to England to help him.”

Percival felt a well bubble up inside his gut at the ambassador’s words. Theseus was everything Percival could have hoped for and more. His brother was his absolute priority.

“How are we going to get Newt to leave without Gellert?” Percival asked. “If you do want to talk to him at your house,” he nodded at Theseus, “then we need some way to convince him to go out.”

“Does he never go anywhere alone?” Theseus asked with a furrowed brow. Percival shrugged.

“He used to, I’d see him out and about, not often, but without Gellert.” Percival frowned, thinking. “Although the past few days its seemed like he hasn’t been leaving their apartment. But I know for a fact Gellert is out every day; working, I’m assuming. The only time to talk to Newt would be one of the times he’s alone in the apartment.”

Jacob rubbed his chin, frowning at nothing. “And all you know of Gellert’s work is ‘freelance consulting’, right?” he asked Percival who nodded. “If we can find out what _kind_ of consulting, I could call him up for a job. Get him out that way.”

“And I could be at home, and just wait until he leaves,” Percival agreed. “That could work, right?” He glanced at Theseus. The ambassador sighed heavily.

“I…think so. Why wouldn’t it? It would get Gellert out. I assume he isn’t in the habit of bringing Newt along to appointments?”

Percival shook his head. “Not that I’ve ever known, no.”

Theseus looked hesitant for a moment. “Do you… think it would be a good or bad idea if I were there? I want to see Newt, I am _dying_ to see him but I—” he broke off and rubbed one broad hand over his eyes. “I don’t want to do more damage.”

Jacob sounded sympathetic as he answered. “Honestly, he may feel ambushed if you were there from the start. Because if he listens to Percival and agrees to leave, he’s going to be very fragile at that point. I think it may be better if he has time on the drive to your house to process everything. Or,” he added with a grimace, “that may be just what he needs, to see the brother he hasn’t seen in years, to give him the push to leave.”

Theseus stood abruptly and walked to the door. He stuck his head out, and Percival could hear, “Miss Woods, I’m afraid I won’t be able to meet with the council this afternoon. Please send them my regrets.”

Miss Woods sounded surprised when she answered, “Yes sir, Mr Ambassador.” Theseus shut the door firmly and turned back to Percival and Jacob, face grim.

“We have some planning ahead of us, gentlemen. Get comfortable.”

.

.

.

Two days since Percival and Jacob had met Theseus. Two days since the three of them had come up with a plan that they were all confident of. Two days of Newt still with Gellert. It was Sunday afternoon and Percival was anxious. Monday morning couldn’t come fast enough. Jacob had set up an appointment with Gellert for ten a.m., his “client” (Jacob) unknown to him. Percival was on pins and needles. He felt like he was on the edge of a cliff, teetering endlessly. He wanted to _jump_.

He hadn’t seen Newt since he got back Friday evening. Not a sign of Gellert, either. There was a churning in his stomach of uncertainty. _No news is good news!_ His mother’s words floated around in his head. Just like when he was ten, he didn’t believe them.

Percival stood at the kitchen sink, absentmindedly scrubbing at a soup pot from lunch, when there was a soft knock on his door. He tripped over one of the kitchen stools in his haste to get to the door, heart pounding. He swung it open and came face to face with Newt.

“Newt—what the fuck happened?” Percival winced at his own harsh words but plowed on. “Do you need something? Come in, please.” He moved out of the entrance. Newt stood uncertainly at the door, and he looked like shit. His left wrist was in a cast, the edges around his hand already fraying, even as Newt worried at it. Percival’s heart stopped. “What is on your neck?”

Newt reached up quickly and his eyes widened. “My scarf…” he turned. “I forgot, I need—”

“Newt!” Percival snapped. The other man froze, shoulders hunching up. “I’m sorry,” Percival said immediately. “I, I didn’t mean to yell. Please, come inside. Please. I already saw them,” he added softly, nodding at the ugly ring of bruises encircling Newt’s neck. “You don’t need your scarf.”

Newt kept his right hand up near his throat, but he moved hesitantly into the apartment. His gaze remained fixed downward. Percival gestured toward the chairs and couch. “Do you want to sit?” Newt shrugged but slowly made his way to the armchair.

“Thanks,” he said softly, head hanging. _Pick pick pick_ at his cast. Percival cleared his throat and sat in the chair across from him.

“What happened?” Percival felt like he had been socked in the stomach. This was the first horribly obvious sign of Gellert’s handiwork and it was so visceral. Percival had to take a deep breath every time he saw the marks around Newt’s neck. _He wanted to get his scarf which he always wears, so does that mean he always has marks to cover up?_ Percival felt sick at the thought. How much had Newt been hiding, how much had Percival not seen, or allowed to happen because he just stood back to _plan_ instead of act?

“I don’t know why I came here,” Newt admitted lowly. He glanced at Percival, chewing on his lower lip. He exhaled shakily. “Maybe I shouldn’t have. I don’t…I don’t know.”

There was a glimmer of hope lighting in Percival’s mind. He knew what he wanted Newt to say, wanted him to say that he couldn’t live with Gellert anymore, that the abuse was too much and could Percival please take him to the police station. _Don’t push him_ , Percival warned himself. “Did you want to talk about something?”

Newt looked scared. He stood abruptly and crossed to the other side of the room, stopping in front of a floral cross stitch that Tina had made for Percival in a “fit of womanhood,” Tina had said, looking almost disgusted with herself. Percival always seated Tina directly underneath it on the odd occasion she came to visit.

“I don’t think I can,” Newt said, looking miserable. He scrubbed his face with his right hand. Percival took a deep breath to steel himself, then said:

“Is it about Gellert abusing you?”

Newt went white. He gaped at Percival, and was quickly shaking his head, saying, “no, no,” and moving back towards the door. Percival stood to intercept him.

“Newt,” Percival said, trying to keep himself in check, “I think you need help. And it is _nothing_ to be ashamed of. But you need to let me help you. Please. Just…just talk to me. Or if not me, your brother.” He neglected to mention the police as an option; he didn’t want Newt thinking too far ahead in the face of all of this.

Newt kept his eyes fixed on the frayed edges of his cast where he was frozen in front of the couch, but Percival could see the internal struggle. His mouth twisted like he was fighting to keep the words in or force them out.

“Newt, please,” Percival kept his voice gentle. “I just want to help you. From what I’ve seen, you can’t be happy with the way you’re living.” Newt’s shoulders gave an unhappy jerk, and he briefly glanced at Percival. “I can help you. We can help you.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Newt asked hoarsely, eyes wide. “H-how many people have you been talking to, how many _k-know—_ ” he cut himself off, looking panicked.

“Your brother, Theseus,” Percival replied. “And I’ve spoken to a friend of mine who is a police officer, because I needed to know what I could do to help you.”

“Theseus?” Newt’s voice was soft, but he looked horrified. “I can’t…why would you go to him? How did you know—” he cut himself off and turned away, wavering slightly. “I’m sorry, Percival, but I need to leave. There’s nothing…nothing that you can do. Nothing _for_ you to do.”

Percival shook his head. “Nothing for me to do? Then what were you worried about people knowing if there’s nothing?” The answering silence spurred Percival on, while at the same time he had a voice in the back of his head urging _caution_. “Why is your wrist broken, Newt? What happened? Or those bruises you think you’re hiding under your collar? What caused those?”

“Nothing!” Newt hissed, drawing back. “Percival, it’s—just nothing, all right? Don’t, don’t _push_.”

“So _nothing_ keeps you locked in your apartment, afraid to do or say something to the wrong person, for fear of _nothing_ happening to you. _Nothing_ is making you too afraid to even look me in the eye right now.” Percival could feel his frustration burning deep within; the feeling of being powerless for so long, for doing nothing for so long, for standing on the sidelines, when he should have been doing something. And now, even now when he had started to take the first step, he was wrestling with the fact that maybe he wouldn’t be able to do anything at all. Jacob’s words were running circles around in his head.

_Newt needs to acknowledge it for himself, or else nothing will change._

And another voice, that of his high school English teacher: _show, don’t tell._

With that thought in mind, Percival pulled the letter Theseus had written from his inner pocket. He held it out to Newt who still looked caught between fleeing and collapsing.

“Read this, Newt. Then you can decide what to do.”

Newt took the letter after a moment’s hesitation, and his brows drew together when his saw his name written in flowing script on the envelope. “This…Theseus?” he asked in a wondering tone. He fussed with his collar, and again Percival saw the deep ring of bruising, and he balled his hands into fists. He held his tongue, though, and silently crossed the room to sit on one of the stools at the island in the kitchen.

Newt had pulled the letter from the envelope, and slowly sank down onto the couch. Percival could hear the hitch of his breath as he started reading. He hadn’t asked Theseus what he had written in the letter, it was none of his business, and he had every confidence that Newt’s brother of all people would know exactly what to say.

After some minutes had passed in silence, the paper crinkling cutting through the apartment, Newt cleared his throat. “Percival?” he asked softly.

Percival forced himself not to answer too eagerly. “Yes?” He could feel the quick jump of his heart in his chest, and his fingers wanted to tap restlessly. Newt chewed his lip, the letter from his brother held in a trembling grasp.

“I…I think I want to go, but…” his breathing quickened and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Gellert—”

“We can keep you safe, Newt,” Percival promised him. “There’s no way for him to know where you’ve gone. If you choose to see Theseus. And my friend, Jacob, is a police officer. He’ll be there the whole time.” Newt was staring at the letter with such an open look of longing that Percival felt he should turn away. Instead he said, “Newt, you don’t _have_ to go. No one is going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. But I think you should. I hope you do.”

“I…” Newt shook his head, eyes wide now. “I’m sorry, this is, too much too fast, I can’t—” he was shaking where he sat, and he lurched to his feet, pacing restlessly. “I need to go home. I need to think about this. It…Gellert really isn’t that bad?”

“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” Percival asked, not unkindly. He stood as well. “Please, Newt. Think about what’s best for you.” He nodded at the letter. “There’s no time limit on that. Any time of the day or night, if you decide you want to go, tell me, and we’ll go. He broke your wrist this time, Newt,” Percival added, watching him carefully. “Don’t let him do anything worse.”

Newt flinched, his shoulders hunched in on himself. The mottled bruising stood out starkly. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Newt,” Percival told him. “I just want to see you safe. That’s all anyone wants.” _Except Gellert,_ he thought darkly.

Newt jerked his head in some form of acknowledgement. “I have to go,” he muttered. He held the letter tightly, then dropped it on the coffee table. “I…I can’t keep that.”

Percival felt his gut flare with anger but kept his composure. “It’ll be safe with me.” He followed Newt to the door. “I meant what I said. Any time. If you decide you want to see Theseus, I will take you.” Newt nodded, already sliding out the door, and was gone. Percival sighed at the shut door. “You’re not alone anymore,” he muttered. He took his cell phone from his pocket to call Jacob and update him, then dropped on the armchair that faced Newt and Gellert’s apartment.

Newt coming here the way he had, that was a good sign, wasn’t it? It was a sign that he was starting to acknowledge the situation. Right?

He allowed himself to hope.

.

.

.

Percival jerked from sleep when he heard a loud bang. He had a moment of sleepy confusion, _when had he fallen asleep,_ when he heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. He bolted to the peephole in his door, moving as quietly as he could, and just caught a look of the shock of peroxide hair that was Gellert before he disappeared from sight. Percival remained pressed to the door, heart pounding as he heard the _ding_ that signalled the arrival of the elevator. He forced himself to count to ten. Then threw open his door and fairly flew down the hall to 810.

He knocked, when he wanted to pound on the door incessantly, and called, “Newt? It’s Percival. Are you all right?” He was about to knock again when he heard a scraping from the other side of the door. It opened.

Newt stared at him, chest heaving, his cheek bright pink, the rest of his face pale, then suddenly he was babbling, clumps of words falling out of his mouth at an alarming rate, backing into his apartment, leaving Percival only able to catch bits and pieces as he followed Newt after a quick look down the hall at the elevator.

“I listened, I really did…I k-know what you said…and he was—but I think I can, but—” Newt paused, looking at Percival from where he stood in a bedroom, a brown suitcase open on the bed with a smattering of clothes shoved in and what Percival thought was a picture frame but he couldn’t be sure, and said clearly, “Can you help me?”

“Yes,” Percival answered immediately. Wait. “With--?”

“Leaving. Now. Right now,” Newt added, looking desperate. His hands were shaking as he turned back to the suitcase. “It’s ridiculous, I don’t know what I’m supposed to take,” he laughed in a way that wasn’t funny. “I feel so stupid about this.”

“Not stupid,” Percival promised even as he felt each passing second like a punch to the gut. “You’re brave, Newt. I know this isn’t easy.” He went over and surveyed the few things in the suitcase. “Do you have a passport, credit cards, anything like that you haven’t grabbed?”

Newt was picking at his cast, nervous. “N-no, I don’t think so, Gellert took them all, I don’t know where they are—"

“No matter,” Percival assured him. He glanced around the room. “Is there anything else you want to grab right now?” Newt was already shaking his head, his eyes darting around the room.

“No, I don’t really have anything,” and he looked so miserable as he said it that Percival simultaneously wanted to wrap him in a tight hug and staple Gellert’s balls to the bedpost.

“Then let’s go,” he told Newt instead. He reached for the top of the suitcase, and just before he shut it he caught a look at the photo on top. Newt, probably ten years younger, beaming at the camera with Theseus’ arm slung about his shoulders, also grinning. Percival clicked the suitcase shut and looked at Newt. “Let’s go.”

Newt fumbled through getting his shoes on, his hands trembling too badly for him to manage the laces, so Percival pushed his hands away and did it for him, Newt fairly gasping for breath above him, stringy bits of his cast tickling the back of Percival’s neck as he twitched and fidgeted. He carried the suitcase for Newt, pulling the door open wide, and turned. “Come on,” he said to Newt, who stood frozen in the doorway.

“I…” Newt faltered, and looked around the apartment, then back to Percival, expression lost. “Am I being c-crazy? This is crazy, isn’t it? I can’t just _leave_ him—”

Percival’s hands were sweaty and he couldn’t resist another glance down the hall at the elevator. He had to be quick without making Newt feel like he was rushing him. “Newt, I want you to listen to me, okay?” He waited until Newt nodded, eyes wide, chewing his lip almost manically, then said, “in the few weeks I have known you, I have not seen you smile like you are in the picture with your brother. It scares me to think that what Gellert has shown me, probably isn’t even half of what he _doesn’t_ show me. And in the few hours since I saw you, he’s hurt you. Again. Do you think he will stop? Because if you don’t, you need to come with me. I _promise,_ you won’t get in trouble. And you’ll be safe.” Percival held out his hand and tried to convey the sincerity of his words with his expression.

Newt looked at the outstretched hand, and back at Percival. He exhaled shakily, looked behind him again, then took his hand.

“We’re going to take the stairs down to the garage,” Percival told him, leading the way to the stairwell that was just past the elevator. As he passed his apartment, it occurred to him he hadn’t locked the door or taken his cell phone. He had to call Jacob. “Just one second,” he told Newt, and darted into his apartment, snatching his keys and phone up from the table they sat on. He heard the elevator doors _ding_. Newt was frozen in his place, watching with growing dread, and Percival reached for him, he would hide him somewhere in here, when he heard a chipper voice.

“Hello, Newt! How are you tonight?” Percival nearly dropped with relief as he saw Miranda Gordon smiling from in front of the elevator. He slammed his door shut, giving Newt an apologetic look when he jumped, and nodded at Miranda.

“Have a nice night, Miranda,” he said as he locked the door and gestured at Newt. “Come on,” he said quietly. Newt had the deer in headlights look again and he was determined not to let him second-guess himself. They slipped in the always half-open door to the stairwell. Percival pulled out his phone and called Jacob, who answered on the first ring.

 _“Perce! I was just calling you,_ ” Jacob said, sounding flustered. “ _You won’t_ believe _what I just learned.”_

“Can it wait?” Percival interrupted. He had slowed down from his initial almost run down the stairs when he realized how stiff Newt was moving. Now he stayed one step ahead of him. They rounded the seventh landing. “Jacob, Newt and I are on our way to Theseus’. Can you meet us?”

There was shocked silence from the other end for a moment, then Jacob said, “ _of course. Where are you right now?”_

“Coming down the stairs to the parking garage.” Percival tucked the suitcase under his arm and reached out to steady Newt, who was wobbling down the stairs. His breathing was fast and shallow. Percival lowered the phone, halting on the landing. “Newt. I need you to try and calm down, all right? You’re okay. You’re fine. Everything is all right.”

“I’m sorry,” Newt said, placing his good hand on his chest. “My heart—”

“You’re just scared. And that’s okay too,” Percival promised him. “We’ll be out of here before you know it. Don’t worry. Okay?” Newt worried his lower lip between his teeth, a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, but he nodded all the same, and began moving again.

“ _Perce?”_

“We’re good, Jacob,” Percival raised the phone back up. “Listen, we’re going to be in my car in about five minutes. I don’t know where Gellert is; he left the apartment ten minutes ago and got in the elevator. I’m going to go straight to the highway, it’ll take me less than five minutes to get there. Can you meet me somewhere along the way and we’ll head to Theseus’ together?” They passed the fifth landing.

“ _I can do ya better than that, listen to this—"_

A door above them banged open. “Newt?”

Percival’s heart jumped in his throat as Gellert’s voice floated down to them. He quickly muted his call with Jacob, and took Newt’s hand again, jerking his head down. “Slowly, and quietly,” he murmured to Newt. Newt stood rooted on the spot, pressed against the wall and looking up, as though expecting to see Gellert swoop down four flights of stairs in one go. He looked at Percival when they heard soft footsteps shuffling around. The whole stairwell was one echo chamber.

To Percival’s immense relief, Newt moved, his grip on Percival’s hand bone crushing tight, his palm slick. Percival held on, stepping carefully down each step. Their shoes, rubber soled as they were, whispered over the steps, and they kept a steady pace up until they were finally on the lower level, the door to the parking garage just ahead of them. The door above had never shut, but nor were there footsteps on the stairs. Not that Percival could hear, anyways.

They stepped into the parking garage, chilly and smelling of exhaust and empty of people but full of cars. Percival had his keys out and ready as they hurried past two rows until they got to his car. The _ding_ of the elevator echoed in the quiet underground. Percival unlocked the car and threw the suitcase in the back seat.

“Newt!”

“Just get in, Newt,” Percival said, standing close behind him, watching Gellert warily as he slowly made his way towards them, face blank. Newt was shaking like a leaf. He gave no sign of having heard Percival. “Newt—"

“What’s going on, Newt?” Gellert asked in a soft tone that had the hairs on the back of Percival’s neck standing up. He looked at Percival, and a sneer twisted his face. “Evening, Percival.”

“Sorry, Gellert, but I haven’t got time right now,” Percival told him coldly. “We were just on our way. I suggest you do the same.”

Gellert tipped his head to one side. “Going somewhere, with _my_ Newt?” He asked, voice sharp. He looked at Newt. “What’s he talking about? You aren’t going anywhere, are you.”

Newt was still trembling, picking at his cast, his face white. He glanced at Gellert and away, silent. “Come on, Newt,” Percival encouraged, with a soft hand on a thin shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“ _Don’t_ talk to him!” Gellert snapped, taking a step forward, barely two car lengths away now. Newt jumped when he yelled. “Newt, you love me. You wouldn’t really leave me, would you.” His face fell in a parody of grief. “You’re all I have.”

“Well you’re not all he has,” Percival snapped. He moved to stand next to Newt, slightly ahead of him.

Gellert spoke as though Percival hadn’t. “Newt, I love you. I need you. Please, come back upstairs with me.”

Newt gasped softly. “P-percival,” he whispered. Percival shook his head and glared at Gellert but spoke to Newt.

“Is love a broken wrist, Newt? Is it hand shaped bruises around your neck? Is love meant to paralyze you with fear?”

Gellert’s eyes flashed, and he snarled. “You go—”

“This is _not_ love, Newt,” Percival said, turning to face Newt. He gestured to the cast that Newt was picking at frantically. “This is control.” He pulled the letter from Theseus out from where it was carefully folded in his inner jacket pocket and held it out to Newt. “ _This_ is love.”

Newt’s fingers trembled as they reached out to skim the paper, almost afraid to take it. At last his fingers closed around it, and he held it tight to his chest. He looked at Percival. His eyes skittered over to Gellert, and he flinched and averted his gaze again. Percival’s heart was pounding, his palms sweating. He felt hyper aware of everything in the moment: the fluorescent lights lining the garage, casting a sharp light on the scene; the harsh breathing of Gellert from behind him; the smell of a hundred cars around him.

Newt said something, too quietly for Percival to make out. He leaned in closer. “What did you say?”

Newt cleared his throat and looked Percival in the eye. His gaze didn’t waver to Gellert. “I want to see Theseus.”

Relief flooded through Percival, and he nodded. “Then get in the car, and I’ll bring you to him.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Gellert growled from behind him. “Newt—”

“Not another word,” Percival snapped, rounding on him furiously. “You have nothing to say or do here, so why don’t you just _fuck off_.” He turned back to Newt and gently urged him into the car and pushed the lock down on the door before he swung it shut. He rounded the front of the car and stopped when Gellert moved forward. They were a foot apart.

“You are messing with something you don’t understand, Percival,” Gellert warned in an ugly tone. “Newt is _mine_. I am all he has and I am all he needs. If you take him away from me—”

“What? You’ll break my wrist too?” Percival scoffed. “You know Gellert, a real man never uses force to make a point. And a man never claims another person for himself.”

“He does when it is his right,” Gellert breathed, eyes narrowed. Percival shrugged and backed off.

“Just like it’s my right to end this conversation.” He walked backwards to his door, keeping his eyes on Gellert and his twisted face, and locked the doors as soon as he was in. Newt was breathing light and quick beside him, eyes wide as he stared at Gellert.

“Newt,” Percival said lowly, “look at me. Please.” He started the car, and Newt’s eyes slid his way. “It’s over, all right? You did good. Now we just drive to your brother’s house.” Gellert was hurrying away as Percival reversed out of his parking spot. He hit the Call button on his Bluetooth and selected Jacob’s number as he drove towards the garage exit. It rang once then Jacob’s voice was coming at them from the speakers.

“ _Percival! What’s going on? Are you all right? Is Newt with you?”_

“Yes Jacob, we’re both fine,” Percival replied. He glanced at Newt and grimaced; perhaps _fine_ was an overestimation on his part, but he would be fine. One day. He slowed to a stop at the barrier out of the garage and rolled down his window to insert his keycard.

“ _Percival, I need you to listen to me, all right? I am minutes away from your building, but I’m not alone.”_

Percival removed his card from the metal box, and the arm in front of him lifted. “What do you—shit!”

Newt cried out as the car was slammed into violently from behind. Percival slammed his foot on the gas and they shot out of the garage, Gellert close behind them, the front of his car folded in from the force of the impact with the back of Percival’s car.

 _“What happened?”_ Jacob sounded frantic.

“Gellert rammed us,” Percival answered. His heart was pounding through his shirt, and beside him Newt was gasping in great gulps of air. “Brace yourself, Newt!” The warning had barely left Percival’s lips before Gellert revved up and slammed into them again. The nose of Percival’s car was planted into the side of the cement walls of the garden that lined the parking lot. He looked behind him and saw Gellert reversing.

 _“If you can get away from him, do it,”_ Jacob ordered. _“I’m nearly there, Percival, just hang on—”_

“Fuck!” Percival snapped. His car was hung up on something and wouldn’t reverse. There was nowhere to go in front. He made a snap decision. “Newt, we need to get out of the car, right now. Get your seatbelt off—”

Newt fumbled with his belt, then his face was lit up by glaring headlights. “He’s--!”

Percival turned, and his heart dropped. Gellert was speeding towards them. The front bumper of his car dropped, and he skidded over it but kept coming, and then he was slamming into Percival’s door, and the car was screeching and there was a burning pain all over, and he only very vaguely registered that Newt was holding his hand in a death grip, and he thought _isn’t that nice_ , and then the world stopped.

Percival groaned, lifting a shaking hand to his head that pounded relentlessly. It came away sticky with blood, and he frowned at it. A sharp cough beside him had him turning and he gasped in pain when his back twinged. Newt was in the passenger seat, slumped against the window, and pulling at his seatbelt that Percival could see was pushed tight against his chest.

“Let me…” he said, reaching over and fighting with the release. The belt slid off Newt’s chest and he gasped in a deep breath.

“Percival,” he said groggily, then his head fell back and he was out. Blood darkened his face and neck, lit up by intermittent flashes of blue and red light. Percival tried to take stock of the situation. He looked out the windshield, warped and spiderwebbed with cracks. At least Gellert hadn’t managed to flip the car.

Head pounding, ears ringing, a cold gust of wind blew in through his shattered window, cutting sharply across his left cheek.

“Get out of the car with both arms raised!”

Percival jumped at the voice that suddenly boomed out. Broken glass tinkled underneath him as he twisted to look outside. Gellert’s car was sitting dark across the parking lot, surrounded by at least a dozen police officers and squad cars. As Percival watched, Gellert stepped from the car, hands up over his head, and across the lot their eyes met. Gellert stared at Percival as he went down under a mountain of police officers. The wonderful view was suddenly obscured by a man in white, and Jacob.

“Percival!” Jacob’s eyes were wide, and he looked wildly from Percival to Newt. “Are you all right? Is Newt awake?”

“Sir, can you tell me your name?” The man in white, a paramedic, Percival realized, raised a small flashlight. “Look into the light, please.”

“Percival Graves,” Percival replied, even as his eyes watered under the focused beam, and he heard Jacob saying something about the _jaws of life_. “Please, I’m fine, can you check on Newt?” Percival jumped when the back door on his side groaned loudly, and another paramedic was climbing into the backseat. He reached around the seat to feel at Newt’s neck.

“Steady pulse. I’m going to need a neck brace and we have to recline the seat and get a backboard under him before we get him out.”

Jacob was in front of Percival again. “All right, look, the firefighters are here to cut you out, I’m going to be right here waiting, all right? You’ll be fine.”

A large heavy blanket was pushed through the window. “You can cover yourself with this, sir. It’s about to get loud and hot.”

Percival pushed the blanket over and spread it across Newt and accepted a second blanket for himself. The outside world was lost in a heavy rumble and screeching as the door was cut and ripped and pulled away from the frame. Percival blinked, and he was in the back of an ambulance, sitting up and watching Newt being lifted from the car that was mangled and squished against a cement wall.

“Holy shit— _ow_!” he protested at a bandage being wrapped tightly around his head. Jacob was fairly bouncing on the balls of his feet just outside the ambulance doors. “How’s Newt?”

Jacob frowned. “He’s still unconscious. They’re taking him to the hospital, Theseus is going to meet him there. _But_ ,” he waggled his eyebrows, “I gotta tell you something. Is he okay to hang here for a minute?” Jacob asked the EMT that had patched Percival up. The woman shrugged.

“Your head doesn’t even need stitches,” she said as she pulled her gloves off. She nodded at his smushed car. “That’s a good car. It saved you from a lot worse. Ford?”

“Chevrolet.”

She winked. “Buy American.” She turned to Jacob. “He still needs to come to the hospital, but you can give him a ride if you have him there in less than an hour.”

Jacob held his hand up as though he were swearing. “I just need ten minutes, ma’am.” He held a hand out to help Percival down to the ground. Percival batted it away and Jacob feigned hurt. He grinned at Percival as he led him over to a cluster of police officers. Percival pulled up short. The jackets they were wearing, did they say—

“FBI?” Percival asked. He turned to Jacob who was grinning from ear to ear. “What is the FBI doing here?”

“Okay, so you remember how Gellert does ‘freelance work’, right?” Jacob rubbed his hands together. “Seems freelance work was code for money laundering. He works with—or rather, _worked_ with—a handful of big name corporations, and unscrupulous characters. Oh, and some are international criminals, which Gellert is now, too. The FBI’s been investigating him the last couple weeks when a contact of his ratted him out. Add assault, attempted murder, attempted murder of a federal agent, and even without Newt’s testimony, this sad sack is going away for a _very_ long time.”

Percival couldn’t help it: he burst out laughing. He groaned immediately when his head pulsated in time with his heartbeat. Jacob waved a passing FBI agent over.

“Can you pass out in a minute? I just want you to hear this for yourself first,” Jacob said to Percival as the agent approached. “Excuse me, agent, can you, can you tell me again how many charges are laid against Mr. Grindelwald?”

The agent looked puzzled as Jacob giggled behind his hands. He consulted the tablet in his hands. “So far, we’ve got…94 charges pressed. After our investigation concludes, I imagine that number will easily double.”

Jacob snickered, and Percival indulged in a high five with him. “This is probably the best ending I could ask for. But now you have to take me to the hospital.”

Jacob led the way to his parked squad car. “Victory song on the way?” He stopped at the door and turned. “Perce?”

Percival was standing and staring at Gellert in the back of an unmarked black sedan. Gellert stared back, expression flat. Percival turned back to Jacob and slid in the car. Jacob started it and turned down the squawking dispatch radio.

“What was that about?” he asked as he pulled out of the parking lot. Percival allowed himself a small smile.

“Just reaffirming my rights.”

.

.

.

Percival was wrapped in a painfully tight hug the moment Theseus saw him. “You don’t know—” Theseus broke off. He held Percival at arms’ length. His eyes glistened but his gaze stayed firm. “I can never express to you the depth of my gratitude.” He gripped Percival’s hand. “You saved his life.” Theseus turned to the half open door to Newt’s room. “You brought him back to me.”

Percival felt a blush warm his face. “Theseus, you don’t have to say it. I just wanted to help.” Theseus rubbed at his eyes.

“Nevertheless. Would you like to see him?” Percival hesitated until Theseus added, “he said if you came by, he would like to talk to you.”

“Is he awake?”

“He’s been drifting in and out. I think I wore him out the first time he came to,” Theseus added sheepishly. “But if you’d like to sit in with him while I make some calls…”

Percival nodded. He pushed the door open and stepped into the dim room. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room as Newt slept.

Percival hung back near the door, his heart twinging at the sight of Newt asleep in the bed, a thick white cast covering the length of his right arm, his head swathed in crisp bandages and his face bruised. Hesitantly he sat in the chair at the side of the bed. From the door Theseus gave him a small smile before wandering down the hall. His accented voice floated back until it was lost in the muted sounds of the hospital hallway at midnight.

Percival sat back in the chair and winced at the pain that crawled up his back. Somehow he had escaped relatively unscathed, not even whiplash to show for the might of Gellert's car ramming them. Newt had been caught between the cement wall when Gellert hit them, and as such badly broken his right arm in several places. It would take some intensive physical therapy to get him full use of the arm back, and Percival wanted to deck Gellert, find him in his jail cell and slam his head between the bars.

Newt's slow, easy breathing accompanied the heart monitor, and Percival found himself close to drifting off when a rough voice snapped him to attention.

"Percival?" He sat up and looked to Newt, who was frowning slightly as he took in the sight of Percival.

"Newt, how are you feeling?" Percival asked. He was overcome with relief at seeing Newt awake. He had been so still when he was asleep, almost like he was--

"Dead tired," Newt confessed. He glanced at Percival out of the corner of his eye, then away. He did it a second time. Percival raised a brow.

"Something on your mind?"

"Oh, n-no," Newt said quickly. He turned his head away to watch a blank wall. Percival frowned.

"Newt?"

He looked back at Percival briefly, and suddenly his mouth was trembling. He pressed his left hand, still in its ratty cast, over his mouth. "I'm sorry," he gasped out from behind clenched fingers. Percival dragged the chair closer to the bed, concerned.

"What's wrong, Newt?"

Newt clamped his eyes shut and shook his head. "I'm sorry I d-dragged you into this and that you got hurt because of me. It wasn't worth it. Gellert--

"--was an abusive asshole who got exactly what was coming to him," Percival said firmly. "If a banged-up head is the price I have to pay to get you away from him, then so be it. You have nothing to apologize for, Newt. Please don't think that."

"You don't even know me," Newt said, rubbing at his face. He gave Percival a tired look. "Why..." he trailed off.

"Why what?" Percival urged gently. But Newt just shook his head again, looking upset, so Percival dropped it. He cast about for something to talk about. "Theseus is very glad to see you."

Newt looked even more miserable at that and Percival gave himself a swift mental kick. "I don't know why, I've been horrible to him for years. He didn't deserve that."

"Because he's your brother and he loves you," Percival said simply. "That's all there is to it. That's the only reason he needs."

"I don't know how he can just pretend things are back to normal." Newt picked at the edge of his blanket. "I don't think anything can be normal again." He laughed derisively. "You know I can't even be alone with the nurse here? He needed to lift my shirt and all I could think of was what Gellert would do if he found out." He squeezed the blanket as tight as he could with his broken and bruised fingers.

Percival fought down the wave of rage that threatened to wash over him." You never have to worry about him again, Newt. You won't need to see him."

Newt raised shaking hands to his face. "Why do I want to?"

"Want to--?"

"See him. Talk to him. Be with him still even after everything!" Newt cried. "What's wrong with me?"

Percival raised a hand tentatively and laid it close to Newt's. "There's nothing wrong with you, Newt. It's just going to take some time for you to process everything. And you need to take that time. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you."

"I have this voice in my head," Newt admitted lowly. "It...it sounds like him. It's saying that maybe I'm wrong about everything. Maybe it wasn't that bad, and I...I overreacted." He hung his head. "I'm so stupid."

“No, you aren’t,” Percival said, more sharply than he meant. “You aren’t stupid, Newt.”

“Why didn’t I leave before?” Newt asked quietly. The question hung between them.

Percival considered it. “Did you love him?” A shadow passed over Newt’s face and he hurried to add, “when you first started your relationship. What was it like at the start?” Newt stared at him.

“Why?”

“Just, trust me,” Percival said. “What was he like at the start? How did you meet?”

“Night school,” Newt replied faintly. His eyes were tight like the memory caused him pain. “He was the instructor, actually. He complimented a project of mine, and it…began.”

“And then you went on a date,” Percival prompted. Newt sighed, and rubbed at his face again.

“Yes, to a zoo when they had a special exhibit on white tigers.” Newt gave a strangled almost-laugh. “That was when I realized I l…loved him.” He looked down, ashamed.

Percival took over. “He took you to all kinds of special places. Made you feel like you were something special to him. He surprised you with gifts and outings, thoughtful things sent to you when you were apart. Maybe he suggested living together sooner than you would have considered, but things were going so well you didn’t see the harm. You mentioned to Theseus about him, and your plans to live together, and he didn’t approve, didn’t think it was the best idea to live together so soon, something you mentioned in passing to Gellert, and he laughed it off.

“Then he started doing more for you, and telling you that he was all you needed, that he would take care of you if you would just be with him, just the two of you, and the more he did for you, the more time you spent together alone, you started to see that he was doing everything he said he would and more, and Theseus was wrong. The more time you spent with Gellert, the more Theseus thought he was right, and the more you knew he was wrong, that he was jealous of your relationship, something Gellert agreed with you on.

“So you cut Theseus out. And it was right for you to do that, and Gellert told you that all the time. And the angrier the emails and phone calls from Theseus became, the more convinced you were that you were right all along, and Gellert agreed with you. And suddenly that was it: Theseus was out of your life. Gellert was the only person you had. And that’s when it started.” Percival cleared his throat. “You see, Newt, when I started to have my suspicions about what Gellert was doing, I spent a lot of time reading up on domestic abuse. And it seems like almost everyone has the same story: a deep infatuation, then isolation, then they’re in too deep and don’t even realize.”

Newt was pale and breathing shallowly. He was looking at Percival with wide eyes. “How did you—”

“That is what people like him do, Newt. They get their hooks in you so you can excuse any behaviour. They separate you from friends and family, they become your whole world, and then you don’t know right from wrong.” Percival leaned forward and looked Newt steadily in the eye. “He’s a master manipulator, and there was nothing you could do. And now, after all this, you’re still trying to excuse what he did, because your mind is holding onto the beginning. How long were you with him?”

Newt swallowed. “Almost four years. And…I wasted all those years with him.”

“Well, they say it takes half as long to get over a relationship as the length of it, so don’t beat yourself up if you take a long time to come back from this. The difference now is, you’ve got your brother back, and,” he hesitated briefly, “you’ve got a friend, too.” He offered a smile at Newt. He was staring at Percival’s hand, close to his own on the light blue blanket on the bed, then looked up.

“A…friend?” He seemed flustered and glanced away and back. He spoke from under his flopped hair. “It…it has been a very long time since I’ve had a… _friend._ ”

A knock at the half open door had Percival pulling back. He blinked at Theseus, who was standing in the doorway and who had certainly heard that last bit at least, if not more. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, looking apologetic. “Newt, the nurse has said that visiting hours don’t apply to you, but if you’d like to sleep, I’ll head to my hotel and be back in the morning?” Theseus sounded hesitant but looked hopeful. Newt chewed his lip as he watched his brother, then glanced at Percival.

“Actually,” he began quietly, “I would like you to stay. If you, if you want, that is. You don’t have to…”

“I very much want to,” Theseus promised. He came to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the bed from Percival, who stood.

“I better get home, Jacob’s waiting to drive me.” He took Theseus’ proffered hand and they shook over the bed. “Nice to have met you, Ambassador.” Theseus chuckled but broke off at a gasp. Newt was staring up at him.

“ _A-ambassador_?” Newt struggled to find words. “To who? Or what?” His brother smiled down at him.

“Newt, I am very much looking forward to catching up with you.”

Percival grinned to himself and he started for the door but paused when his name was called. He turned back. Newt was watching him.

“Thank you. For…” he trailed off and gestured. Percival nodded back at him.

“You’re welcome, Newt. I’ll see you soon.” He headed out into the hall, leaving behind the brothers. He shut the door behind him, and found Jacob in the waiting room, frowning at a newspaper.

“Someone started the crossword in this, but I don’t think they were even trying,” he said to Percival, looking so forlorn that Percival had to laugh. He tossed the paper onto a table next to his chair and stood, stretching as he did. “How’s Newt?”

Percival shrugged then grimaced when his back ached. “He’s…I don’t know. Not fine, but I think he will be.”

“You know,” Jacob said thoughtfully as they waited for the elevator, “with all these charges the feds are going to bury the electric bastard under, Newt wouldn’t even have to bring his own up. Gellert’s going away for a very, _very_ long time.”

“You think?” Percival hit the button for their parking level. “Wouldn’t that, I don’t know, be good for closure for him or something?”

Jacob waggled his hand in a so-so gesture. “Yes, and no. A lot of survivors of domestic abuse never pursue legal action because of how much it scares them, or they’re ashamed and don’t want to relive it.”

Percival mulled this over as they walked to the squad car. “I think he will,” he decided. At Jacob’s questioning look he elaborated. “Newt might be scared now, but I don’t think he would let Gellert get away with this.”

“You know him pretty well, eh?” Jacob asked as he started the car. Percival leaned his head against the headrest.

“Starting to,” he muttered, and was asleep before the car left the garage.

**Eight Months Later**

Percival pulled up to the front of the house, stopping at the end of the long driveway and waving to Theseus who was on the balcony of the second floor. Theseus waved back and disappeared inside. The white house, framed by massive trees and accentuated with black trim, was where Newt and Theseus called home. Theseus had moved out of the ambassador’s mansion months ago and taken a sabbatical while trying to reconnect with Newt.

“It’s harder than I thought,” Theseus had confessed to Percival one night, months ago. He’d sipped from the wine he had ordered in that out-of-the-way restaurant, face twisted, expression miserable. “He won’t talk to me, not like he used to. And I know why he can’t, but I’m still… _angry_ about it, and what right do I have to be angry?”

“Every right in the world,” Percival had told him. “But just, you’re angry at Gellert, not at Newt. That’s reasonable.”

“I am not ‘angry’ at Gellert,” Theseus said, voice low. “I long ago surpassed anger, fury, rage. There is no word to describe what I feel towards that, that—” he cut off, setting the wine glass down heavily on the white tablecloth. He put his face in his hands and exhaled sharply. “I have never in my life felt so helpless,” Theseus confessed quietly.

Percival regarded him with sympathy. “The few weeks that I knew what was going on and couldn’t do anything, I thought I was going to go insane. I can’t imagine how it was for you to live for years like that.”

Theseus grimaced behind his hands. He dropped them to look at Percival. “It was hell.”

Now, stepping out of his car and crunching his way over the gravel driveway to the wide porch, Percival felt his insides twist when the front door was pulled open and Newt stood in the entrance. He managed a small smile. “Hello, Percival. All right?”

Percival grinned back at him. “How are you, Newt?” He was treated to a Look, and he quickly corrected himself. “I mean, all right?”

Newt chuckled. “I’ll have you speaking proper British before long.”

“God save the queen,” Percival responded dutifully, and Newt snorted. He followed Newt to the sitting room and they sat around a low table bearing a tray of lemonade. “So,” Percival said once they were settled, “nervous?”

Newt grimaced, swirling the drink around in his cup. “Yes and no. It helps tremendously that I won’t have to see him and he won’t be able to see me. I still wish I didn’t have to do it.”

“That’s fair,” Percival nodded. “What does Karen say about it?”

“She’s been touting the benefits of closure for the past three weeks,” Newt said. He sipped his drink and made a face, and grabbed a sugar cube from the dish on the tray. “I suppose she knows what she’s talking about, and I feel like if I didn’t do this I would regret it.”

“Maybe,” Percival agreed. When he didn’t add anything further, Newt huffed.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“What?” Percival demanded. “I know Theseus hasn’t shut up about it for weeks, I figured you don’t need to hear it from me too.” Newt was fighting back a grin, and Percival sighed. “All right, very funny.”

Newt chuckled. “You’re almost as easy to rile up as Theseus,” he said, sounding much too pleased with himself.

“You’ve changed so much from the first time we met,” Percival told him. Newt glanced up in surprise. “I like knowing this side of you, Newt. You’re fun. Even when you’re being an ass.”

“You can’t talk to me like that,” Newt said indignantly. “I am a _survivor_.”

Percival knew he meant it as a joke, but he regarded Newt seriously all the same. “That you are,” he said, “and I’m glad I get to see it.”

Newt swallowed, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, make light of it,” he muttered. “Sometimes it helps.”

Percival shook his head. “Don’t apologize, Newt. You don’t know how happy it makes me that you can do that.” Newt looked at him strangely. He chewed his bottom lip, and Percival waited for the inevitable thought.

“Why did you care so much?”

“When?”

“At…when we first met.” Newt glanced away, watching the lemonade on the table even though it wasn’t doing anything. “From the very start, you cared. Even before you knew me.”

Percival blew out a breath. “I…I don’t really know that there’s a reason,” he admitted. “I met you, and liked the look of you, then I met Gellert and didn’t like the look of him,” Percival growled, clenching a fist, “and then it sort of snowballed from there.”

Newt tapped a nervous rhythm on his leg, but his voice was steady, playful when he said, “you liked the look of me?”

Percival fought off the flush that threatened to work its way up his face. “You know what I mean,” he said gruffly. “You looked like a good man who lived with bad things. It hit me that I had to help if I could.”

Newt nodded slowly. “Well. I’m glad you did. Even if,” he took a deep breath, “that has led me to this point, the eve of Gellert’s trial,” ( _“you can’t be afraid to say his name,” Newt explained to Percival after a month of therapy with Karen. “That gives him power. But I’m not afraid anymore.” If Percival had to excuse himself to the bathroom to fight back the rush of pride that threatened tears, well, that was nobody’s business_ ) “and I’m possibly more terrified than I let on earlier.” He slumped back against the couch, his right arm stiff and slow to cover his face. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Percival put his cup back on the tray and after a moment’s deliberation, moved to sit next to Newt. He leaned back, their shoulders barely touching. “Well, you tell the truth. That’s all you need to do.” The room was silent around them save for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

“Don’t be mad at me.”

Percival glanced at Newt, puzzled. “Why would I be mad?”

“…I feel bad for him.”

Percival barely registered the comment. His mind was blank. “You what?”

Newt sighed and shifted forward, hands dropping to his lap. “I just, I think about the sentences he already has, for his other crimes, and then I see what I’m going to do to him, and I wonder if it’s too, well…mean.”

“And what about what he did to _you_ , Newt?” Percival demanded. “He pleaded not guilty to the assault charges, what does that tell you? He isn’t sorry for what he did, do you think he ever sat around and wondered if he was too _mean_ to you?” He inhaled deeply, and raised his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I’m not _mad_ at you,” he hurried to assure Newt. “I’m still pissed at him. I always will be. But,” he gritted his teeth, “I can understand why you would feel this way. You had, at least at the start, a good relationship.”

Newt nodded solemnly. Percival pressed on. “But the first time he laid his hands on you, that was when the respect went out the window. Don’t take his feelings into consideration now, Newt; he doesn’t deserve that.”

“I _know_ that, but at the same time I feel like I don’t.” Newt sighed. “Sometimes I still feel so screwed up.”

“And that’s all right,” Percival told him. “You’re not even a year gone from him, and this legal process has been hanging over you the whole time and now, suddenly, it starts tomorrow. I would be more surprised if you had gotten over everything already.”

Newt picked at his thumbnail. “I don’t think I’ll ever be over it.” Percival nudged him with his shoulder.

“That’s all right too.” He saw Newt’s mouth twitch, the hint of a smile, and added, “I can get Theseus down here to add his two cents.”

Newt shuddered. “God love him but if I get another rousing speech of brotherhood I may well plaster my ears shut.”

Percival laughed. Newt turned to him, their legs pressed against one another. He looked serious.

“Percival, I just want to say, thank you. For all you’ve done for me. I honestly don’t know where I would be right now if it hadn’t been for you. And,” he visibly hesitated, “I feel bad asking you this but…”

“But?” Percival prompted.

“Will you come with me tomorrow?”

Percival smiled at him. “I planned on it.”

Newt’s face broke out into a relieved expression. He reached out and took Percival’s hand, squeezing it tight and surprising both of them. They looked at their clasped hands, and at each other.

Percival thought to himself, _Isn’t this nice?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh good, you're here. SO tell me what you thought AND I am working on a sequel and a prequel (how bout dat white tiger date tho?) so keep your feelers out for those sometime within the next few weeks, mmkay?

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a new series I am working on. I wanted to try something that is out of my comfort zone. I am not making light of domestic abuse. If anyone feels there is something horrendously juvenile about this fic, tell me. There is one more chapter that is nearly finished, and then there will be a sequel and a prequel.


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